


speak like you

by truejaku (hereonourstreet)



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, Dubcon (sex under the influence of alcohol), Hate Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Public Sex, Rimming, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 05:01:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 83,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1732106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereonourstreet/pseuds/truejaku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Koujaku has to figure his shit out following the fall of Platinum Jail; Aoba is with Ren and he craves a routine to take his mind off it. All he has is Mizuki and Beni Shigure and he thinks he might be able to get back to some semblance of a normal life but Noiz won't leave him the fuck alone. WHAT WILL HAPPEN you know what's gonna happen but read it anyway. Multichapter Noijaku fic, includes Renao and lots of Mizuki. I have 14 chapters plus the prologue planned so</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

            There have always been swirling rumors about Coils giving people brain cancer; it was the same with cell phones and, Koujaku assumes, rotary phones way back when. Koujaku uses his Coil constantly these days, always checking if there are any messages (he knows there aren’t). If he puts his fingers to his temple, Aoba will ask him if he’s okay and if he tells him he has a headache, Aoba will give him this look, this pitiful look, as if he knows something Koujaku doesn’t and despite his resolve to be so close to Aoba that he understands him completely and totally and without question, he gets angry when he frowns like that. If he asks him for some medicine, Aoba never has any, not that Koujaku can use at least (whatever that means) and Koujaku goes home to drink and pass out. It never helps the headache.

            The crowds that surround him are still endless, even now, _especially_ now, one year later. He’s never really minded them. He plays the humble card in all genuineness, but he’s aware of his behavior. Modest and accommodating of those who want to ooze admiration all over, he lets women fall over his chest, lets men shake his hand; doesn’t let anyone know that he lost a best friend that day, technically.

            A few days after Oval Tower fell, Aoba was still a wreck. Koujaku worried but understood; Aoba would need some time. Tae-san was kinder to him for the most part, warmer and even more giving than before, which threw him off a bit, but he assumed it was to be expected of people who had just been through hell.

            When Aoba wasn’t better a month later, Koujaku tried to help. He tried to talk, tried to ask him what was wrong, asked him what he needed, and Aoba couldn’t answer. He asked where Ren was and was kicked out, angrily and unceremoniously. Tae-san couldn’t answer his questions and he had to lock himself in his room and knock himself out with alcohol that night because he was afraid his anger would burst.

            Two months later and it was still the same. Physically, Aoba was still there. Physically, Aoba still went to work and physically, Koujaku still gripped his shoulder and asked him if he was okay, because he could tell that mentally, he was not. Aoba was gone. Aoba would never answer and the silence would fall around them, constant and unadulterated.

            It was three months later that Aoba finally came around. He took three days off work and Koujaku could hardly get a hold of him. When he finally found him back at Heibon, Aoba was in high spirits, higher than he’d seen him in months, but couldn’t look Koujaku in the eye when he asked what brought on the massive turnaround (not that he wasn’t glad). Aoba told him he just had to trust him, that he’d tell him when he was ready and Koujaku felt his scalp grow hot, so he forced a smile and nodded, told Aoba he’d see him later and left in a hurry, not that Aoba would notice anything was wrong.

            He asked Tae-san – begged her, pleaded with her to tell him what was going on, and, though she wavered a bit, ultimately refused. She told Koujaku he had to wait for Aoba to be ready to tell him. Koujaku lied and said he understood, but he really didn’t comprehend anything anymore. He thought the complete destruction of Platinum Jail would answer all his questions, not dredge up more. It certainly didn’t solve all his problems. He asked Tae-san when she thought Aoba might be ready to talk to him, and again she couldn’t answer. She gestured to the donuts on the table and Koujaku wanted to cry, so he grinned and thanked her for her generosity, and left.

            It was ten months after Platinum Jail that Aoba finally called Koujaku in from his veranda and sat him down in his room. Koujaku remained silent, too frightened that he could be kicked out again were he to say the wrong thing. He only stared as Aoba explained in painstaking detail the events that unfolded that day that Koujaku was not privy to, that while Koujaku was stuck with the metal-gouged asshole, the wanted criminal, and the gas-masked freak, Aoba had been learning a sordid history about himself. Aoba had been finding out his parents weren’t really his parents, that his mother never birthed him like Koujaku’s did him. Aoba had been discovering that he was actually three people, which didn’t sound that crazy to Koujaku because when he gets angry, he sure feels like a different person, too.

            It wasn’t even crazy when Aoba pointed to the boy who’d been in his company the past several months and finally admitted it was Ren, because in some fucked up way, Koujaku already knew that. He could never discern for certain before, with Aoba avoiding him so much, but he had put the pieces of that puzzle together long ago. This boy had showed up the same time that Aoba returned to normal; it wasn’t that hard to figure out.

            He stared at Ren’s new body, heard Aoba’s words about a brother named Sei and destruction and a twin but he wasn’t really following along anymore as he studied Ren, who studied him back. They watched each other as Aoba spoke, soft and calculating. Koujaku was trying to figure him out, and Ren was letting him. Ren finally opened his mouth and added something like, _“It’s true,”_ and Koujaku definitely recognized the voice, but he was still a little stunned. It was a lot to take in. He understood why Tae-san had never told him anything, though some preparation for this bizarre situation would have helped.

            Koujaku had to have it repeated to him several times – Ren was Aoba’s subconscious, planted in his now-dead (by the hands of Aoba?) twin’s body. There was some more explanation of a third Aoba and Koujaku had tried to take it all in but it was going to take him some time.

            He realized he had two options: confusion and disbelief or confusion and acceptance, though it was laughable, really, to call it a choice, because Koujaku no longer had any active role in his decisions when it came to Aoba. They were made for him, by something deep inside that screamed, _“Do it for Aoba, do it because you love him, whether it kills you or not_ ,” so he nodded. He told him he loved him. Aoba was overjoyed when he said it, he even pulled him in for a languid hug, one that had them teetering on their heels as they both laughed at their imbalance, but Koujaku wondered how long it took for Aoba to disregard his words after he left, dazed and wandering home a different person.

            It’s unfair, to this day, Koujaku thinks. Aoba doesn’t understand how much he means to Koujaku, he really, _really_ doesn’t understand, and it should have been him who was by Aoba’s side that day. He doesn’t dislike Ren. It’s just the opposite. Koujaku loves Ren, but it’s odd now, to have a human face to put to the name, and not just a pre-programmed AI in the form of a tiny blue Spitz and he has to admit, it makes it easier for him to be jealous. Koujaku can look at Ren now as a person, as a corporeal, breathing human. As a fucking competitor. It’s still Ren, but Koujaku can’t fathom knowing the dog in this new capacity.

            In the end, though it’s a bit of a shock, Koujaku tells Aoba a few days later that he’ll always be there for him, he accepts Ren and wants to get back into a routine that he can feel comfortable in.

            He doesn’t tell him that he’s still in love with him.

            He’s come to terms with it, mostly. It’s still confusing, trying to navigate the boundary between intense friendship and romantic love, but after Oval Tower, it was difficult to deny it anymore. He is unequivocally in love with Aoba, and probably has been since before he left Midorijima, even if he hadn’t recognized it then. What he feels for Aoba is more passionate than anything he feels for anyone else he knows; anyone in Beni Shigure, even Mizuki - more than anything he’s ever felt for a woman, for sure. He can’t deny that it was Aoba’s face that stilled his blade all those years ago.

            It’s an almost sinking feeling, like there’s a rock in his chest, not necessarily in place of his heart, more like trying slowly, but surely, to push it away. It’s a dull pressure, and it assaults him every time he sees Aoba, every time he sees those cerulean strands. He wants to caress them along his fingers, he’d rather take in every individual hair, study them, embrace them, than run his fingers through them all at once. He wants to know all of Aoba, and that’s the most troubling part.

            He watches Aoba and Ren and it doesn’t look so bad: he wouldn’t mind holding someone the way Ren holds Aoba, fiercely nestled in his arms. He really is still a dog, protecting Aoba fearlessly, and Koujaku thinks he’d be good at that, too. He’d be good at holding Aoba tight, wrapping him up in his body and never letting anyone get at him, and he supposes he’d be good at doing that with anyone else, too, but in his fantasies, it’s always Aoba. That’s what confuses him.

            If he simply felt protective of Aoba then maybe he would see him as the little brother that Aoba obviously feels he is to Koujaku, but he doesn’t. It isn’t mere safety and security that Koujaku wants to offer Aoba – in fact, it’s not what he wants to offer Aoba at all that bothers him, it’s what he wants to take. He wants Aoba, he wants all of him, he wants to feel Aoba underneath him, and he wants to feel inside of Aoba, the way he supposes Ren does now. He can’t pretend that’s new, either. It’s been true for years: he’s had fantasies about Aoba, about _being_ with Aoba, about stroking his naked chest and breathing in his hair and running his fingers down his pelvic bones and squeezing his fleshy hips and thrusting deep inside of him and he always stamps a foot involuntarily, always shakes his head hard enough to jar the thoughts from his mind because it’s inappropriate. It’s horrific. It’s appalling. To violate Aoba in his mind like that is downright sickening, because deep down, he does still wish to just protect him, to keep him safe and blissful and if he ever knew anyone else was doing that to Aoba, even in their imagination, he’d kill them.

            But he still _wants_ to be with the women he sleeps with; he still finds them attractive and he still enjoys the time he spends with them. He likes their curvy hips and their plump lips and that’s a little easier to stomach. Being with a woman – that feels right. That feels good. He genuinely enjoys it, which is why it’s confusing when he accidentally gets off to the vision of Aoba’s sleeping face that he’s stored away in his head. He chalks it up to Aoba being his exception, his only one, his only exception, but that doesn’t help him the night he gets drunk and off-handedly imagines what it might be like to sleep with Ren and finds himself jerking off in his bathroom once he gets home to the thought of being pressed against by a harder body, a body more like his own, a body that belongs to a man who’s desperately craving Koujaku as badly as Koujaku craves him. It’s not Ren in his fantasy exactly, but it’s a body like his, firm and muscular and strong, and able to pin him against a wall easily, as Koujaku can do with the women he’s been with, and, he assumes, Aoba.

            And that’s not the first time he’s had a thought like that, a fantasy about another man that wasn’t Aoba. There have been several men in his life that he’s found he enjoys imagining kissing. There are even a few guys in Beni Shigure that he isn’t exactly repulsed by and he hates himself for it, not because he particularly believes anything one way or the other about homosexuality, but because he can’t stand violating people in his mind. He tries to create fictional people when he fantasizes. He can’t stand the thought of getting off to real people without their consent so instead he invents these amalgamations of all his deepest desires. Some nights he thinks about women with sultry eyes and wiggling hips, some nights men with hard abs and strong hands, some nights both of them flanking him on either side and overtaking his body, some nights he takes a few pills and knocks himself out before he can even think about sex.

            In the end, he supposes it doesn’t really matter what – or who – he wants. He hasn’t met anyone he’d want a relationship with outside of Aoba and now that Aoba is in love, Koujaku doesn’t have to worry about what he’d do or say if he started dating him. He tries not to think too hard about what he wants, consciously or otherwise, because he doesn’t want to admit that he’ll never get it. If he falls in love with a woman then he’ll fall in love with a woman; he’ll get married and have children and raise his family and grow old with her. If he falls in love with a man – a man that actually wants him back, that is – then… well, he’ll figure it out.

            Right now, he just wants to find a routine.

 

            Months pass and Koujaku is still trying to find that routine he craves, when finally, he thinks he might have found it.

He picks Mizuki up at the hospital the day he’s discharged, and takes him home. He hasn’t been to Mizuki’s place in over a year now, and something about his kind eyes has always settled Koujaku’s nerves, so he was more than happy to volunteer as his caretaker for the initial weeks after his homecoming. He had readied his apartment, brought his cats home from boarding, and bought the fluffiest pillows he could find for Mizuki’s imminent arrival, though his friend now insists he’ll be up and out of his apartment as soon as possible.

            “Not for at least a week,” Koujaku reminds him, thrusting the pillow that Mizuki had rejected back into his hands.

            “And in a _week_ ,” Mizuki replies, shoving the pillow back again, “I’ll be back at Black Needle.”

            “Then in a _week_ ,” Koujaku growls, pushing the pillow into Mizuki’s arms a third time, “you can return the pillows. I’ll even give you the receipt. But for _now_ , you have to rest.”

            Mizuki laughs lightly, embraces the pillow finally as he lays back on his bed and crosses his ankles.

            “The pillows are great,” he relents. “I just want to get back into things.”

            Koujaku smiles. He understands how Mizuki must feel, because if he were to be honest, he feels the same way. There’s a part of him, a selfish part that he feels immensely guilty for, that hopes things will start to feel a bit more normal again when Mizuki gets back to Dry Juice. He doesn’t mind if he has to learn a new routine, as long as it develops at all. He’s exhausted, really, from having to navigate this new life, this post-Platinum Jail life, where Mizuki is crippled and Aoba is in love with someone else; where Clear shows up at Heibon every now and then and still calls Aoba “Master,” where Noiz is unfortunately still around and still causing trouble for Beni-Shigure (sometimes he wonders if he’d be happier if Noiz had disappeared instead of Mink – at least Mink wouldn’t pop up in restaurants while he’s in the middle of dinner with his friends and flash him that inane bunny sign from across the room).

            “I want you back, too,” he says, and he leaves it at that. He lifts one of Mizuki’s cats – a particularly plump, brownish one – onto his bed with him and settles himself at the foot of it as Mizuki strokes the cat idly while they make conversation. Koujaku considers bringing up Aoba and wonders if he could segue naturally into Ren and Platinum Jail. He’s not sure how much Aoba told Mizuki the few times he went to visit him in the hospital alone, but he finally decides it would probably be too much for his invalid friend to take in, so he keeps quiet. Mizuki rambles a bit about how excited he is to get back to Dry Juice and Black Needle, and Koujaku’s mind wanders to Aoba’s story again. Ren’s new face surfaces and he wonders why Ren’s eyes manage to trouble him even when he’s otherwise occupied.

            His eyes dart back to Mizuki and he can’t help but smile. One of his closest friends is back, and that’s what he chooses to occupy himself with the rest of the night. Mizuki assures him with heavy-lidded eyes and an equally heavy voice that he will only stay confined to his room until Koujaku goes home for the night, to which Koujaku responds by setting up a makeshift bed for himself on Mizuki’s couch. He falls asleep there after telling Mizuki that he’ll bring him breakfast in the morning, but is awakened by a noisy Mizuki cooking food himself in the kitchen. Koujaku doesn’t admonish him; instead he helps with the rice and keeping the cats away from the fish.

            One week later, Mizuki is behind the counter of his bar again, and Koujaku couldn’t be more relieved. There’s a small gathering, just a few Dry Juice members, Koujaku, Aoba, and Ren, and the air still feels stilted. It’s been months since Aoba first told Koujaku about Ren, so Koujaku wonders if it’s just him or if Aoba feels the same. If his stolen glances and subtle shoulder bumps with Ren imply anything though, it’s that he doesn’t, and Mizuki must catch him frowning because he pulls him aside, folds his arms and jerks his head in their direction.

            “Still kind of strange, yeah?”

            Koujaku gives the pair another lingering look and wants to grin and bear it, but simply turns back to Mizuki with a sigh.

            “A little,” he shrugs. He can’t show his cards yet, not even to Mizuki. He prays that somehow Mizuki will just _know_ , will just _say_ it – _“It’s okay, I know you’re in love with him_ ,” – but realizes that even if he did, he’d do nothing but deny it.

            “It’s Ren though, right?” Mizuki offers.

            Koujaku studies his friend. He’s not sure when Mizuki found out the whole story, but he must know it by now. His face is soft and genuine, his eyes are undemanding and his smile is sincere and Koujaku can only mirror it.

            “Yeah,” he says, throwing an arm around Mizuki’s shoulders. “Guess we just have to get used to it.”

            “By the way,” Mizuki says with a quick cock of his head, “Aoba mentioned that the gas mask kid – Clear? He showed up at Heibon yesterday. Does that happen often?”

            Koujaku shrugs wearily. He’s never really cared for the “friends” he made that day, though Clear was probably the most tolerable of the group.

            “I don’t think so,” he answers. “Not sure.”

            “What happened to everyone else from that day?”

            Koujaku sighs gutturally and takes his arm off Mizuki, drapes himself on the bar and eyes the alcohol on the shelf. If it was anyone but Mizuki, he’d tell him to drop it, but he still feels that Mizuki is owed explanations about that day.

            “Clear is still around,” he says. “Mink disappeared. Probably dead. I don’t know. Who cares? The other kid is still around. Wouldn’t mind if it was him who disappeared, though.”

            “The other kid? Noiz?”

            Just his name grates on him and he lets his head drop forward with exaggeration and groans. Mizuki chuckles.

            “Yeah,” Koujaku says. “He comes around, starts fights with Beni Shigure all the time. And I don’t know why, since it’s not like he has the balls to fight anywhere but Rhyme.”

            “Ah,” Mizuki scoffs, lifting a hand and waving it through the air as if he’s swatting a fly. “Forget it. I was just wondering what happened to them. We don’t need any Rhymers around here anyway.”

            “I couldn’t agree more,” Koujaku shouts, grabbing Mizuki by the shoulder again and turning him toward the bar. Mizuki isn’t supposed to be drinking yet, just to be safe, so Koujaku has enough for the both of them.

            Koujaku is relieved when things do fall into an easy enough routine: he spends his days cutting hair, full-time now, with his eye on a small space to rent to start a business, but he’s not sure he’s ready for that yet. For now, he still travels from place to place, but takes more appointments into his home and when he’s done for the day, he ends up at Mizuki’s place, where Dry Juice and Beni Shigure have been meeting more and more often. There’s an even stronger sense of camaraderie between the two since the fall of Oval Tower, and Aoba and Ren tend to show up more often than not, which Koujaku chooses to consider helpful. He wants to get used to seeing them together, to seeing Aoba love somebody else. Every now and then something will make Ren grin, his sharp fangs glistening in the blue light of Mizuki’s bar, and Koujaku swears he wiggles his rear end, as if he’s still trying to wag his tail. Koujaku always smiles.

            Koujaku’s routine is good. His routine is helpful. His routine is necessary. He needs something routine; he needs something mundane and usual and monotonous; he’s had enough excitement, if he could call it that, and now he needs to calm down for a bit. He makes a comfortable living, sees his friends every day, meets new people – meets new women – and always has a family in Beni Shigure. He never wants for a shoulder to lean on, and if he ignores the crippling despair in his gut when he sees Ren’s face, he can be content with his life again. He doesn’t even mind Clear’s presence every so often, or Aoba postulating about where Mink went now and then, but there are some names that he can’t hear without gnashing his teeth together. He mostly hates hearing them come out of Aoba’s mouth, especially when it’s something sympathetic like, _“I wonder what must have happened to Virus and Trip to make them like that,” “Do you think Toue forgives himself?”_ or, _“I just think Noiz looks… lonely_.” 

            It’s about a month after Mizuki has gotten out of the hospital that Noiz shows up in the Dry Juice alleys, just as sullen-eyed and sour-breathed as always, and Koujaku stops dead in his tracks, a resigned sigh escaping his lungs. He rolls his eyes. He’s tired enough just trying to navigate his new day-to-day life; seeing Noiz instantly exhausts him completely. He barely has enough energy left to take Mizuki’s shoulder to stop him and then jerk his head toward Noiz.

            “Hm?” Mizuki asks, and then follows his nod. “Oh,” he says when his eyes focus on Noiz, and an entertained grin spreads across his face.

            “Probably here to worship the greats,” Koujaku says. Mizuki chuckles and the two of them turn, cross their arms in swift succinctness, and stare down the younger boy. Koujaku is aware that they must look like bullies in a schoolyard, but Noiz deserves it.

            Then again, if Koujaku has ever intimidated Noiz he’s never shown it, not physically at least. It’s not lost on Koujaku that it’s Noiz who constantly manages to pop up in his territory. Koujaku isn’t even sure where Ruff Rabbit gathers anymore now that Rhyme has lost traction, but he’s heard that they both still exist.

            The stupidest thing is that Koujaku wouldn’t really _mind_ Noiz if he didn’t seem so insistent that Koujaku should. Noiz purposefully baits him and Koujaku can’t resist. At first, he hated him because he caught the kid about to beat Aoba up in his own room but after Koujaku realized he was all bark and no bite, he didn’t see him as much of a threat. He didn’t want to be his best friend, but he was quite certain Aoba’s roundhouse kick could take care of Noiz, scrawny as he was.

            But then Noiz never left him alone.

            And Noiz is _infuriating,_ the most trying and aggravating person Koujaku has ever met. He’s young and immature and he doesn’t realize it and that’s the worst part. Trying to convince Noiz that he’s embarrassing himself is impossible, which gives Koujaku second-hand embarrassment as well. Noiz has always rubbed him the wrong way, and now Koujaku can’t shake that feeling. He probably wouldn’t give in to his hollow enticements if they didn’t make him so angry, and they wouldn’t make him so angry if they ended at threats of physical violence. But they don’t.  

            Noiz hurls both invectives and come-ons at Koujaku in the same breath and he’d chalk them up to Noiz trying to assert his dominance, except that something about them seem _genuine_. Noiz isn’t just baiting Koujaku’s manhood. It’s easy for Koujaku to scoff and ignore him when he invites Koujaku to blow him, but when he reverses the roles, when Noiz offers to suck Koujaku’s dick, Koujaku sort of hesitates. He’s not considering it, of course. Of course not. Of course he’s not considering that, right? He reassures himself, of course he isn’t thinking about saying yes and following through with it.

            And maybe Noiz wouldn’t annoy him so much if he would stop popping into Koujaku’s head at night – the nights he feels like thinking about men. But Noiz isn’t the kind of guy Koujaku imagines holding him against a wall; Noiz is the kind of guy Koujaku imagines throwing onto the bed and eviscerating completely. They’re fleeting, vapid thoughts; contemplations that Koujaku immediately denies. He denies them so quickly that he’s still able to tell himself they don’t exist at all, but there’s a part of him that knows they’re there, waiting to break the surface, and that’s why he can’t stand to look at Noiz’s hopeless, irredeemable, incorrigible, incensing, youthful, gorgeous face.

            Koujaku can’t stand that face. He despises it.

            He juts his chin up at Noiz and squints.

            “What are you doing here?”

            Noiz shrugs and there it is, that insufferable smirk. Koujaku’s fingers curl inward; he wants to punch it.

            “Overseeing Rhyme not too far from here,” he offers. “I thought I’d take a shortcut.”

            “Overseeing Rhyme?” Mizuki’s voice suddenly comes from Koujaku’s left side and he turns to look at his friend. “How does Rhyme even exist anymore without Usui?”

            When Koujaku turns his attention back to Noiz, he swears he can see him straighten his posture, as if a teacher or an elder is addressing him, and his eyes dart around the alleyway. The tips of his fingers find their way to his pockets and he seems to think for a second before he opens his mouth to speak.

            “Still works the same,” he mumbles. “It just needs a different officiator. I do it a lot. They have to be schedu—”

            “Very interesting stuff,” Koujaku interrupts. “Why don’t you just move on to your little game, then?”

            Suddenly Noiz opens his body up to Koujaku and leers again, posture no longer stiff and practiced. As far as Koujaku is concerned, Noiz is the embodiment of youthful arrogance. Koujaku is already seething.

            “It doesn’t start for a while. I thought we could catch up.”

            “Great,” Koujaku scoffs. “You’re still a little prick and I couldn’t care less about your life. All caught up.”

            “Hm,” Noiz hums lazily, his head slowly drooping to the right. Then he snaps his head back up and stares at Koujaku as if he’s waiting for something. “Oh. Was that the end of the joke? It was hilarious.”

            “Wow,” Mizuki says. “This kid doesn’t fuck around.”

            “Shut up,” Koujaku snaps, whether to Noiz or Mizuki, he’s not sure. “Why are you here? Why do you keep bothering me? Why don’t you just leave us all the fuck alone?”

            “I just care so much about you. Ever since the day we spent together, all that time ago.”

            Koujaku rolls his eyes and throws his hands to his sides. He nudges Mizuki’s shoulder and starts to walk away.

            “Goodbye, Noiz,” he mutters, but before they can get very far, Noiz takes a few steps forward and shouts:

            “How’s Aoba doing? Heard he got a boyfriend. I thought you two were attached at the ass or something. That’s crazy, huh?”

            It’s simple: Koujaku knows that he has to keep his temper in check, that he’s given the term “anger issue” a new definition, and that if he doesn’t keep himself calm, then everyone else will end up knowing that, too. He’s mastered the art of stowing away his feelings but sometimes it’s as if he blacks out; he loses just a couple seconds of time and suddenly he’s shouting at his friends, or glaring at a stranger on the street, or in a completely different place altogether.

            He’s not sure how much time passes between Noiz’s comment and the first punch, but he’s sure it’s only been a few seconds. He can’t remember how he got here, how he left Mizuki’s side and threw Noiz against the brick wall of the alley, but he knows that there are very few things that make him angrier than Noiz’s bloody, smirking mouth asking him if he struck a nerve – except, maybe, being a little turned on by it.

            Koujaku can’t find words vile enough to respond with, and he doesn’t want to open his mouth and risk letting out that inhuman growl he’s heard himself make before, so all he can do is grunt, shove an elbow against Noiz’s throat, and it takes Mizuki a full minute before he can finally separate the two. Noiz falls to the ground gracelessly, landing on his elbow and the _crack!_ is so loud that even Koujaku grimaces.

            “Shit,” Mizuki breathes, running a hand through his hair. “What are you, twelve?”

            Koujaku wants to say that Noiz started it, but he thinks that might prove Mizuki’s point.

            “Are you okay?” Mizuki asks, extending a hand to the younger boy, which surprises Koujaku. Noiz raises his eyebrows for a second and Koujaku thinks he looks shocked, too. He takes Mizuki’s hand and allows himself to be helped up, though he never responds to his question.

            “Let’s go,” Koujaku says, shouldering Mizuki and determined to walk out of earshot before Noiz can rile him up again. “I’ve had enough of this.”

            Mizuki doesn’t say anything, but follows behind him quickly and Koujaku is desperate to get back to his routine.

            Koujaku’s routine involves haircuts, women, bar time, pining, bed; then it resets the next day to haircuts, women, bar time, pining, bed; haircuts, women, bar time, pining, bed; haircuts, women, bar time, pining, bed; and never does he want it include getting goosebumps when he hears Noiz breathily exhale something like, _“Oh… I’m bleeding.”_


	2. kiss with a fist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a kiss with a fist is better than none

            Midorijima has changed a lot in the past year: it smells fresher, as if the flowers blossom year-round, and the streetlights seem to sparkle in the night sky like stars rather than shine dully on the pavement of the streets. Everyone feels like a friend, and though there are still some areas to avoid, it feels safer. It sounds like a party and it smells like spring when it rains instead of bitter acridity, and Mizuki tells Koujaku that it’s the same as it always was, that it’s all in his head, but Koujaku doesn’t mind if it is. His head is not exactly the happiest place, so anything that alleviates it helps.

            His head is not the happiest place because he knows _he_ is still out there. He accidentally said that once to Aoba, cryptic and vague, and Aoba knitted his brow and looked at Ren, who remained unflinching as usual. He asked Koujaku what he meant and Koujaku scrambled to come up with anyone that wasn’t the demon he remembers from his adolescence. Noiz was the first name that popped into his head and Aoba laughed lightly at his stubbornness, and Koujaku was content with that, because he couldn’t tell him whom he really meant.

            He tries to tell Mizuki once but that’s even harder. Mizuki’s eyes are so bright and trusting, and he knows that if he mentions Ryuuhou’s name just once, he’ll eventually reveal how his mother died all those years ago, and he can’t afford that. He can’t break that trust with anyone; not the Beni Shigure members who respect him as a leader, not Mizuki and his unquestioning eyes, not Ren and that honest smile he gives him every time they meet. And most of all, he can’t let Aoba down, not when Aoba still puts his arm around Koujaku’s shoulders and pulls him close for hugs, so close that Koujaku can smell his shampoo (and it’s not the one that he gave him as a gift a week ago).

            So he keeps Ryuuhou to himself, and it’s not so bad. He puts Ryuuhou in his own little room, shuts the door and locks it, and relegates it to a recess of his mind. Next to that recess is another room with his father, and then another with his father’s wife, and then another with the bodies he’s slain, and then another with his tattoo. When he catches glimpses of the ink on his body in the mirror he can feel the door start to shake, unhinging the contents of the room in his mind, so he turns swiftly away from the mirror and refuses to acknowledge it. He shuts the door as quickly as he can.

            He tries to remember only the best things about his mother: long, dark hair that flowed to her waist that she taught him to braid, a soft, hushed voice that sang him lullabies at night, warm arms that would hold him tight as their corresponding scars embraced. He tries to keep those memories in a separate room, which he can open up and sit in some days, because sometimes he needs to remember his mother just to get to sleep at night.

            He has rules about how he conducts himself to keep his anger under control: he doesn’t resort to violence outside of Rib, he doesn’t let Rib affect the rest of his life, and he vows that if he ever finds Ryuuhou again, he will kill him on the spot. A quiet voice nags him, a voice that’s wedged between the rooms in the recesses, that says he probably wouldn’t have the balls, but he ignores it, and assures himself that Ryuuhou is a dead man, he just has to bide his time. It’s the only way he can keep calm when he remembers that he’s still out there somewhere.

            Of course, he still gets angry now and then, but nothing can stir up a seething rage like the things he keeps locked away in his rooms, so he feels safe for the most part. The last time he got so angry he blacked out was when Noiz dared to mention Aoba’s name to him the day in the alley with Mizuki, and he has to admit, that surprised him. He chalks it up to getting over Aoba still, and leaves it at that.

            He won’t admit that nothing riles him up _just_ to the breaking point like Noiz does, because he doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction, even if Noiz would never know it. It doesn’t escape him though, that when he reacts to his incessant poking, he _is_ giving him the satisfaction. Mizuki always rolls his eyes and warns him, _“You’re doing exactly what he wants you to, you know,”_ but Koujaku can’t hold it back. He can’t let an insult or a sarcastic come-on go unremarked, even when he knows he doesn’t have a good comeback and ends up embarrassing himself. Usually he gets so flustered when Noiz hits on him that it escalates to fists because Koujaku can’t figure out another way to respond, and Noiz is the only one who can make him break his own rules.

            And Noiz shows up in the Dry Juice alleys and the streets that Beni Shigure roam more often lately, almost always alone. If Koujaku asks where the rest of Ruff Rabbit is, they’re always busy. Noiz never seems to be.

            “Hey, you know,” Noiz said once, hands in his pockets and smirk in place, “we never got to fight that day.”

            “What are you talking about?”

            “That day, a year ago. We were supposed to fight but the cops showed up.”

            “So what, you want to fight?”

            “Sure.”

            Koujaku smiled and rolled his eyes. He studied Noiz thoughtfully: his pale skin and green eyes almost glow in the dimly lit alley, and Koujaku found himself admitting that Noiz can be somewhat appealing – attractive, even. He scoffed, at himself than anything else, then turned and walked away. There was no reason to let that train of thought continue. He could hear Noiz chuckle behind him but when he glanced back, Noiz was gone.

            It’s been weeks since he’s last seen him, and he thinks about those eyes one day, the emerald pieces of shit. He’s pretty sure they’re due for a visit sometime soon. Sure enough, the teenager shows up outside Mizuki’s shop one night when they’re leaving, and when Koujaku meets his eyes, he seems to have a fire in them, like he’s here for more than just trading insults and making Koujaku’s face feel hot when he offers a handjob in the back alley.

            “What are you doing here?” Koujaku asks, and at this point it’s become rote, which Koujaku doesn’t mind. In fact, it’s a little endearing that Noiz has made himself part of Koujaku’s routine.

            “Let’s fight.”

            Mizuki laughs. Koujaku raises a brow.

            “Fight?”

            “Fight me.”

            “I don’t think so,” Koujaku says. Noiz smiles. He’s challenging him.

            “Almost bedtime, huh? It is almost seven-thirty, I guess,” he shrugs. Mizuki laughs again and then covers it with a cough. Koujaku glares at him but notices that Noiz’s face falters for a second.

            “Whatever,” he says. “You want to fight? What, in Rhyme?”

            “Yeah.”

            “I don’t think so,” he repeats. “Rhyme is a, ah, young man’s game.”

            Noiz almost throws his head back to laugh, and it’s the most emotive Koujaku has ever seen him. There’s something endearing about it.

            “I can’t believe it. You just _admitted_ you’re an old man.”

            “No!” Koujaku says, taking a large stride toward him and bearing his arm in defense. “I’m calling you immature! Who’s the one who keeps showing up around our turf and throwing insults at us? We’re not the ones coming to you and then challenging you to a fight!” Koujaku feels justified, but he’s starting to doubt himself so he thrusts his elbow to his side for backup. “Mizuki? Right? Right?”

            “He’s got a point,” Mizuki says smoothly, turning away from locking the door and staring Noiz down with a grin. “What’s your game, Noiz?”

Noiz takes a half step backward and looks away, his smile fading, so Koujaku takes advantage.

            “Rhyme,” he chides. “Because he doesn’t have the balls for the real world.”

            Noiz scoffs and rolls his eyes but Mizuki’s soft laugh encourages Koujaku.

            “You call me old, but you’re still too young to understand anything important, aren’t you? All you care about is Rhyme,” Koujaku snorts. “And Rhyme doesn’t even really exist anymore! Let it go.”

            “Okay – ” Mizuki says with another small laugh. The corners of Noiz’s lips tug back into a forced smile and this is the first time in a long time that Koujaku’s gotten the best of him, and that’s a feeling Koujaku wants to chase. He’s getting a little worked up at the thought of Noiz being put in his place, so he keeps going:

            “Why don’t you come back here when you actually have something worth living for, okay?”

            “Hey,” Mizuki says curtly, throwing a hand out and grabbing Koujaku’s arm. He turns to his friend in surprise. “That’s – come on. Leave him alone.”

            Koujaku furrows his brow at Mizuki. Why Mizuki should care about Noiz’s feelings is beyond him. Noiz isn’t looking at them but he’s rooted in his spot. No one says anything and it’s awkward so Koujaku sighs angrily and shakes his head.

            “Okay, whatever.”

            He bumps Noiz’s shoulder as hard as he can as he walks by, and Noiz stumbles a few steps, reminding them all that in the real world, Koujaku is stronger by far. He can hear Noiz’s boots as he scuffles away quickly and he walks in frustrated silence with Mizuki for about a minute before he hears Mizuki laugh again.

            “What?” Koujaku shouts.

            Mizuki shakes his head.

            “I think you struck a nerve.”

            Koujaku thinks back to the day that Noiz muttered those words to him. He echoes Mizuki’s laugh and shoulders him. Mizuki leans back and almost pushes Koujaku off the sidewalk; they end up wrestling their way down the street, much to the dismay of pedestrians walking toward them, until they link arms and decide to go to a bar instead of a restaurant.

            A week later, Koujaku arranges a group outing. He sits at a table in a crowded bar with Mizuki, Aoba, and Ren; there are some Dry Juice and Beni-Shigure guys sprinkled around the crowded room, and he’s about four drinks in when Aoba points at the bar.

            “Hey,” is all he says and Koujaku follows his finger and immediately hangs his head. When Mizuki spots the blond at the bar, he laughs heartily and slaps Koujaku on the back.

            “Can’t get away, huh?” he mocks. Koujaku brushes his arm off.

            “Don’t let him see us,” Koujaku shouts. He stands up and shifts his body to put his back to the bar, doing what he thinks is blocking the entire table from view.

            “It’s Noiz,” Ren says. Mizuki laughs again; Koujaku shakes his head.

            “I’m aware.”

            “I think he can still see us,” Aoba smiles. Koujaku is going to yell at him, but Aoba’s lips distract him and he ends up staring.

            “Your body is not big enough to effectively hide the entire table,” Ren leans over to tell Koujaku. He turns to Ren quickly, eyes wide and incredulous. Ren still has some habits of an Allmate: what once would have been considered accessing a situation now leans toward pointing out the obvious as a human, and usually Koujaku doesn’t mind, but he finds it a lot more annoying when he’s a few drinks in. He opens his mouth to mock him, but Aoba interrupts.

            “Someone should go ask him to come over. He looks like he’s alone.”

            “Why would anyone do that?” Koujaku almost shrieks. “Why would any of us want to do that?”

            “He just – I know you don’t get along, but… I feel like it sucks that he’s alone.”

            “We should invite him over since he’s a mutual acquaintance,” Ren asserts, standing as he speaks, but Koujaku claps a hand on his shoulder and pushes him back down.

            “I’ll do it,” he says. He turns briskly, ignoring the few protests from his friends (Aoba’s loud, abrupt regret doesn’t deter him in the least; neither does Mizuki’s heavy-handed scolding). He takes a couple steps toward the bar and the alcohol catches up with him all at once. He stumbles and pauses, but then corrects himself and stabilizes. It’s not that bad; he’s barely tipsy. He just stood up too fast.

            Noiz still hasn’t noticed them by the time Koujaku sidles up next to him. He puts one elbow on the bar and turns his body to face him, a smile on his lips that he thinks is threateningly sweet, but might just look drunk. Maybe he’s a little drunk.

Noiz notices his hands first and doesn’t have to follow them to Koujaku’s face to know whom they belong to. He smiles too; still facing the bartender, his head droops between his shoulders. If Koujaku was more sober, he would notice how similar that was to his own reaction, but he’s drunk, so he chooses to ignore it.

            “You stalking me now?” Noiz has to shout over the crowd, and Koujaku has never heard him speak that loudly. It feels like it’s the first time he’s ever actually _heard_ what his voice sounds like.

            “Ha!” he laughs. “We come here all the time. What’s your excuse?”

            “Shit,” Noiz says, turning to face him finally. “How drunk are you?”

            “I’m not drunk. Shut up. Do I seem drunk?”

            “A little.”

            “How?”

            “You smell like beer.”

            “I’m not drunk. Shut up. Get out of here.”

            “Who you with?” Noiz asks, turning around and scanning the bar. Koujaku grabs his shoulder and tries to turn him back around but it’s too late. Noiz finds the table almost immediately and waves. When Koujaku looks over, he sees Aoba waving back and his confusion returns. Aoba has never cared much about hanging out with anyone, much less Noiz, so this is sort of perplexing. Maybe he’s feeling nostalgic. Koujaku knows he does sometimes, but the last thing he wants to do when he gets in those moods is hang out with _Noiz_.

            “Just leave us alone,” he says. He thought the conversation might be somewhat entertaining but it isn’t. Noiz is simply annoying, as usual, and he doesn’t know why he thought this would be interesting in the first place.

            “You’re the one who came up here.”

            Koujaku rolls his eyes.

“Aoba wanted me to.”

            “Aoba did?” Noiz raises his eyebrows and smiles wide.

            “Don’t get any ideas,” he scowls. “He – he’s drunker than I am. He thought you were someone else.”

            “So you _are_ drunk.”

            “ _Point is,”_ Koujaku sneers, “just,” he shoos him away with his fingers, “stay… over here.”

            “But Aoba wanted you to come talk to me? That’s so sweet. Maybe I’ll come say hi.”

            “Don’t. No one cares.”

            “Well, that’s obviously not true.”

            “Aoba doesn’t give a shit about you!” Koujaku shouts, slamming a fist on the bar. He shoves his face into Noiz’s and a few people turn their heads. They’re only inches apart and Noiz studies him for a few seconds before that fucking smirk spreads slowly across his lips. Koujaku wonders how hard he’d have to kiss Noiz to make that smirk disappear.

            “I’m not the only one he doesn’t give a shit about.”

            Koujaku apologizes profusely to Aoba the next day for getting them kicked out. Aoba is annoyed, but he supposes it’s his fault for trying to bring Noiz over when he knows they don’t get along; still, Koujaku didn’t have to _punch_ him at the bar. Mizuki points out that Noiz hit back, and Ren notes that this is something that happens often. Koujaku gets sick of his friends talking about him like he’s not in the room and goes home. He wraps his beaten knuckles and spends the day trying to pop his jaw back into place. Noiz is a good shot for such a scrawny kid.

            And that’s how it goes. He lives normally for a week or two, and then Noiz pops up in a restaurant or on the street or in a bar and flashes him the Ruff Rabbit sign from across the room. Koujaku flips him off. Noiz looks so incredibly pleased and blows a kiss. Koujaku wants to ignore him but he can’t because he can’t pretend that he isn’t flustered at the gesture. He gets angry that he’s unable to hide his blush and his friends have to physically restrain him from stalking over to Noiz and punching him square in the nose.

            Aoba still tries to invite Noiz over sometimes when they see him out and Koujaku, more sober than the night at the bar, still can’t understand why. He’s asked before and Aoba can never seem to answer, so he keeps asking.

            “He’s unbearable. You know I hate him. Why do you always try to bring him over?”

            Aoba hesitates. It’s just the two of them having a late lunch and the place is mostly dead. Noiz sits in a corner with some Ruff Rabbit guys, having successfully riled Koujaku up enough already to push his chair back and threaten to come over there, but Aoba calmed him down.

            “I know I should be on your side,” Aoba finally says, “even if you are being immature.” Koujaku rolls his eyes. “I know you’re my best friend. But… he just seems so alone.”

            “How?” Koujaku asks. “He has Ruff Rabbit. Who cares?”

            “Mizuki said Ruff Rabbit isn’t really as tight-knit as Rib teams. I don’t really remember, to be honest.”

            It’s true that Rhyme is fought individually so the teams tend to be less like a family. But that’s neither Koujaku’s nor Aoba’s problem.

            “It just feels…” Aoba continues, giving it some thought. “I felt really alone after… everything. And then – for better or worse, they found Ren, or – Sei, I guess. When I went to that hospital and Ren was there…”

            He trails off, but Koujaku understands. He hums to himself, sits back in his chair and looks at Noiz, who catches his eye and cocks his head. He purses his lips into a kiss and then turns back to the guy next to him. Koujaku closes his eyes slowly and takes a deep breath, willing himself to stay calm and think of a rational response.

            “Well, he’s not alone,” he assures Aoba. “Just because he’s not best friends with his team doesn’t mean he doesn’t have them. They’re with him right now, for God’s sake.”

            “That’s true,” Aoba slants his head and looks at the table with heavy eyes. “I just feel bad. Sometimes he _is_ alone. He was alone that night at the bar.”

            That’s also true. Even so, Koujaku hardly feels sorry for him. There’s a very good reason why Noiz ends up alone, and it’s because he’s insufferable.

            Still, when Aoba says something, Koujaku takes it to heart. The next time Noiz shows up in Beni Shigure territory, Koujaku tries to convince him that he unequivocally does not want to fight him, he isn’t going to fight him, and if he wants a reaction, he should find someone else. Noiz tests the waters by throwing out some insults, but Aoba’s trusting, wanting face pops into Koujaku’s head, as it always does, and he remains resilient. But Noiz knows how to break him.

            “Saw you on a date with Aoba the other day, huh?”

            “Don’t.”

            “What? I thought you guys looked cute together. Don’t tell Ren.”

            Aoba doesn’t have to ask what happened when Koujaku shows up that night with a few cuts across his cheek. He narrows his eyes at him accusingly and Koujaku almost cowers under his glare.

            “At least I’m paying attention to him,” he mutters. “I’m sure that makes him feel less alone.”

            “You got into another fight with him?” Ren asks. Aoba nods.

            “Yes, Ren,” Koujaku replies. “I got into another fight with him.”

            It’s not just Aoba. About one month later, Mizuki is wrapping Koujaku’s hand for him – he thinks he broke a finger – and he hasn’t said a word the entire time. Koujaku can feel the tension in the air; everyone is getting pretty tired of this rivalry, but it’s not Koujaku’s fault. Noiz is the one who magically appears, who baits him, like a schoolgirl being mean to her crush. Suddenly he wonders if Noiz does have a crush on him, but quickly forgets the possibility. He doesn’t want to know where his imagination will take that one.

            “It just feels like you’re always saying you’re the more mature one,” Mizuki says finally. “So be the more mature one.”

            “I try,” Koujaku mumbles. “He always…”

            “Strikes a nerve?”

            Koujaku sighs and puts his head in his other hand. He watches as Mizuki wraps two fingers together thoughtfully.

            “What does he say?” Mizuki asks. “What is it that gets you?”

            Koujaku rolls his eyes. There’s no way he’s going to tell Mizuki that Noiz thinks he’s digging at Koujaku’s sexuality when really he’s digging at his heart, especially because a small part of Koujaku – a part that he locks away in a room – wonders if Noiz is actually aware that he’s digging at his heart. Maybe Noiz is more aware of Koujaku’s feelings for Aoba than he thinks.

            “It’s just – bullshit. Rhyme stuff.”

            “Who _cares_?” Mizuki says quickly. “Who _cares_ about Rhyme? Let him have Rhyme. It’s stupid, but let him have it. We have our families. Let him have his.”

            “I’m not sure his family really cares about him anymore,” Koujaku sighs. “Rhyme dropped off so quickly that Ruff Rabbit shrank like crazy.”

            Mizuki shrugs.

            “That’s for him to figure out. Don’t make it your problem. He’s nineteen. Teenagers are weird. Leave him alone.”

            Koujaku looks up from under his bangs at his friend. Mizuki concentrates on Koujaku’s hand and he knows he’s right, but Aoba’s said this before, too. For God’s sake, Koujaku already _knew_ all this, but he still can’t manage to keep his anger in check with Noiz.

            Then he realizes, _this is it_. This is the routine. This has become part of the all-necessary, life-saving routine that Koujaku craved. Haircuts, women, bar time, beating up Noiz, being scolded by his friends for beating up Noiz, pining, bed.

            “I’ll try harder,” Koujaku mutters. “He’s a fucking annoying kid, though.”

            “He’s really not that bad. He’s actually really nice to me.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “He comes to the bar sometimes.”

            “What?”

            “He comes to the bar sometimes,” Mizuki repeats, looking him in the eye. “Alone. He just sits for about an hour and then leaves. He hardly speaks. If I talk to him he answers, otherwise he just sits there.” Mizuki looks back down at Koujaku’s hand and shrugs. “And he always overpays. And drinks the strangest things.”

            “Did you tell Aoba all that?”

            “Yeah,” Mizuki nods. “Why?”

            Koujaku shakes his head and shrugs one shoulder.

            “Just wondering.”

            His and Aoba’s conversation in the restaurant the other day makes a lot more sense, now. Mizuki must have told Aoba that Noiz comes in alone and Aoba got upset. Koujaku doesn’t understand what kind of game Noiz is playing, but he wonders if he should try to play along.

            Two days later, Koujaku is at the hospital. His hand is broken and Noiz is in the next room over with a fat lip. He doesn’t call anyone to come get him. He goes home on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [(me)](http://img1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20140106015005/degrassi/images/a/a5/Tumblr_static_ann_perkins.gif)


	3. snap out of it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i wanna grab both your shoulders and shake baby
> 
> snap out of it

            Koujaku stares at the door of Aoba’s bedroom. It’s shut tight and he lives his life trying to avoid opening doors. He wonders if he shouldn’t just turn around and go back home, but then he remembers Aoba invited him here. He always feels like a teenager when he comes to Aoba’s house. Maybe it’s because Tae-san is downstairs the whole time. He’s always wondered what it would be like to have his mother downstairs while he was in his room fidgeting nervously with a girl. That was an experience he never had.

            He puts his fist up to Aoba’s door but then he hears his soft, awkward giggle. There’s shuffling and he can make out that he’s wrestling around with someone else. He can only assume it’s Ren and though it doesn’t sound inappropriate, it’s foreign and alienating and something Koujaku’s never done with anyone, much less Aoba. It sounds like something he’ll never do with Aoba.

            He brings his hand down and turns to go, but then remembers he’ll have to walk by Tae-san and explain why he’s leaving so soon and that’s just as intimidating as knocking on Aoba’s God damn door.

            Koujaku crouches down in the hallway and rubs his forehead with the hand that’s not clutching the bag of food he’s brought. He’s twenty-eight years old. This shouldn’t be so hard. He should be over this by now. _This should be routine_.

            He stands, twirls back to the door and knocks on it quickly, sloppily, before he can give it another thought. There’s a surprised inhale from the other side and a sudden thudding, and then Aoba shows up at the door with a grin. His cheeks seem flushed and there’s the slightest trace of sweat on his forehead. Koujaku peers into the room and sees Ren on his back on the bed, head hanging upside down over the side.

            “You guys were expecting me, weren’t you?” he grins. He comes into the room as Aoba laughs and he puts the bag of snacks on the floor by Aoba’s bookshelf.

            “Of course. We invited you,” Ren says. Koujaku slows his steps as he smiles to himself and then turns to Ren. Aoba is staring at him from the doorway, his lips thinned into a small smile and his eyes pitiful.

            “Oh,” Ren says. His expression is unflinching but his tone implies that he’s come to a realization. “I’m still getting the hang of rhetorical questions.”

            “It’s okay,” Aoba laughs. He bounds over to the bed and kneels down, cups Ren’s hair in his hand and cocks his head. Koujaku chooses not to point out that it’s been over a year and a half since Ren took a human body. “Maybe you’re just a helpful person. Maybe that’s not leftover Allmate.”

            “Maybe,” Ren nods. Koujaku shuffles backwards to nudge the plastic bag with his foot, hoping to rustle it enough to remind the two that he’s still in the room.

            “What do you want to do?” Aoba asks, turning his torso but keeping his hands planted in Ren’s hair. Koujaku’s eyes linger on his fingers, twirling into Ren’s course, black strands.

            He’s thrown off by the question. Aoba never used to ask him what he wanted to do. They would sit in his room and talk for hours and sometimes an idea would occur to them and sometimes it wouldn’t. It never seemed to matter. Once in a while, Koujaku would fall asleep on Aoba’s bed, his head hogging Aoba’s pillow while Aoba slept at the foot of the bed. Their legs would tangle awkwardly, and Ren would sleep on his cushion across the room. When Koujaku looks at the cushion now, he can still see the AI form. He’s not sure how neither of them find that morbid, but he does admit there’s something comforting about the tiny blue Spitz.

            Aoba’s face always reddened the mornings after their impromptu sleepovers, muttered that boys weren’t supposed to sleep in the same bed, but would eventually give in when Koujaku reminded him that they were best friends. Aoba always came around, but Koujaku knows they won’t be falling asleep in the same bed together anymore, and though Aoba and Ren always encourage Koujaku to spend the night still, he can’t bring himself to do it. He tends to excuse himself at Aoba’s first yawn (which has always come fairly early in the night) and trudges home, trying to recall the words to the third line of the lullaby his mother sang to him about the birds and the rain.

            “Oh!” Aoba shouts, finally removing his hands from Ren’s face and turning around to look at Koujaku. “I forgot to tell you.”

            “Hm?” Koujaku walks over and situates himself on the floor next to Aoba and wonders how all the blood hasn’t rushed to Ren’s head yet.

            “Mizuki wants to finally have his welcome back party,” Aoba says. He puts his head in his hand and crosses his legs. Then he leans to one side and presses the side of his forehead against Ren’s. Koujaku squirms.

            “Okay?”

            “I think this weekend,” he continues. “And I have a request of you.”

            “Sure,” Koujaku shrugs. “What?”

            “I’m going to tell Clear.”

            “Cl – why? Clear? Why are you telling Clear?”

            “Aoba?”

            Ren calls from Aoba’s side and they both turn to him. His face, Koujaku notices, is a faint shade of pink.

            “Yes?” Aoba asks.

            “My head is – strange.”

            “Sit up,” Aoba says, putting a hand under his head quickly and tilting it up. “Blood rushes to your head when it’s upside down.”

            “Shouldn’t you know that?” Koujaku asks. “That’s not an Allmate thing, is it?”

            “Perhaps I should have,” Ren says, now sitting straight up on the bed and facing the wall, away from them. “Thank you.”

            “I mean, he never had his head upside down as a dog,” Aoba shrugs. He looks at Koujaku and speaks as if Ren is their child and Koujaku’s chest hurts. “And if he had, it wouldn’t have mattered.”

            “But – ” If Ren used to watch Aoba’s vital signs, surely he’d know the basics of the human body, Koujaku wants to argue, but he doesn’t. Aoba and Ren have their own language, their own dynamic now. It’s their own routine. “Yeah,” he coughs. “Anyway, what is it you need?”

            “Oh, I – okay, listen to me.”

            “I’m listening.”

            “But I mean hear me out.”

            “Aoba….” He doesn’t like where this is going.

            “I need you to be nice to Noiz.”

            Koujaku takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes. Somehow he was expecting that. He opens his eyes again and narrows them at Aoba.

            “What do you mean?”

            “Mizuki invited Noiz.”

            Koujaku sighs.

            “I don’t understand why you guys can’t just accept that he and I don’t get along,” Koujaku says. “Some people just don’t work together. Noiz and I don’t work together.”

            “Look,” Aoba says, his voice suddenly deep and stern and Koujaku feels as though he’s being scolded. Now suddenly _he’s_ the child. “I just want you to try one more time. To put aside your differences.”

            “We don’t have _differences_ , we have – ”

            “ _Koujaku_!” Aoba shouts. It surprises him and he’s left with his mouth hanging open. “I just want to try one more time, to show him he’s welcome. I don’t want him to feel like he’s alone. We’re all so lucky to have each other, and you know how hard it was for you and I to separate for those years we were apart, and we weren’t even as close as children as we are now.”

            “What do you mean?” Koujaku interrupts quickly. “ _I_ felt close to you as a kid.”

            “I just meant,” Aoba sighs, “we’re even closer now. And so are Mizuki and I. And so are Ren and I. And I’m lucky. I’m grateful. And I don’t want to feel like we messed up with Noiz just because we didn’t try hard enough. Can you please just do it for me?”

            Koujaku grinds his back teeth together and stares at Aoba, right in his stupid, gorgeous eyes. He sets and unsets his jaw several times as he pretends to think it over – really he’s just wasting time studying every detail of Aoba’s determined face. Aoba knits his brow and frowns, waiting for Koujaku to respond. Koujaku wants to ask what constitutes as “hard enough,” and how Aoba can possibly define what Koujaku tolerates from the brat as “not hard enough,” but he doesn’t. He doesn’t, because Aoba has said the magic words: “ _For me?”_ and Koujaku can only sigh heavily.

            “I’ll try,” he says, the words light and airy on his tongue.

            “Thank you.”

            “I’ll _avoid_ him,” Koujaku specifies. “I’m not going out of my way to be _nice_ to him.”

            “That’s good enough,” Aoba falters.

            “If he tries to start shit with me, though – ”

            “Koujaku.” Aoba’s voice is low. A warning.

            “—I’ll try to let it go,” Koujaku frowns.

            “Thank you.”

            Aoba smiles softly, his entire body relaxing. Ren is still facing the wall and they spend the rest of the night smoking, eating, playing video games, and it’s almost two in the morning before Aoba yawns this time. Ren bunts his neck with his forehead and asks if he needs to go to sleep. Aoba says no but Koujaku stands and says it’s time for him to head home, and Aoba doesn’t protest so Koujaku lets them keep the leftover food and walks home alone.

            Koujaku gets through the week without making any snarky comments to Mizuki about his inviting Noiz to his party, though the few times he sees him he really wants to. He wants to call him out as the traitor that he is, but he decides he still gets a free pass for the time being (but that free pass is up the _second_ the party is over). He also gets through the week without seeing Noiz again, so when he steps into Black Needle that Saturday evening, he strains to check the room without being too obvious. Mizuki, however, catches him.

            “Don’t worry, you’re the first one here,” he says. He’s leaning over the bar. His hands drape over the front edge and Koujaku approaches him with heavy eyes.

            “I’m not worried,” he says. He mirrors Mizuki and leans over the counter, hanging his own hands off the other side. “So, are you drinking tonight?”

            “I’m not supposed to,” Mizuki says. He straightens up and turns to the bar behind him to remove a blue bottle that Koujaku can’t make out. It might be vodka. He puts it in front of Koujaku, who moves to take it, but then he shuffles around under the bar. One hand pops up with a shot glass and he slams it unceremoniously on the counter, so Koujaku takes it and starts to pour a shot. Then a second one joins it.

            “But I’m going to anyway,” Mizuki adds with a grin and Koujaku knows he should be discouraging this, but he cheers him on as they down their first shot.

            He cheers Mizuki on as they down their second, third and fourth shots too, and by the time they get to their fifth, the party is spilling out into the alley and onto the streets; Koujaku has already snaked an arm around Aoba a few times and challenged Ren to rock, paper, scissors, which he subsequently lost every time. Aoba introduces Ren to most of Beni Shigure for the first time and though they’ve known Ren as Aoba’s Allmate for as long as they’ve known Koujaku, most of them are drunk enough not to question it. Kou, however, eyes him suspiciously for several seconds, before nodding in agreement. Koujaku frowns and pours him another drink.

            Clear shows up and accepts every drink that’s handed to him, but Koujaku doesn’t see him drink a single drop the entire night. His demeanor never changes, as far as Koujaku can tell from the other side of his mask, and when he finds Mizuki sitting on a couch in the waiting area of the shop, he sits down next to him and elbows him in the rib.

            “Hey,” he says in what he thinks is a whisper. “I don’t think Clear drinks.”

            “Hm? Why?”

            “How should I know? Maybe he’s an alcoholic – ”

            “No, dumbass,” Mizuki sighs. “Why do you _think_ that?”

            “Oh,” Koujaku squints at the boy in the gas mask. “I haven’t seen him take a single sip of anything all night.”

            “That’s because he’s wearing that fucking weird gas mask,” Mizuki drawls. “You can’t see anything behind that.”

            “I know, that’s why I’ve been watching. I want to see if he’ll take it off. I want to know what he looks like. Why do you think he wears it?”

            “Who knows?” Mizuki rolls his eyes. “Maybe he’s secretly a terrorist.”

            “Let’s call Akushima on him,” Koujaku grins.

            “Let’s never talk to Akushima willingly ever,” Mizuki says, standing up and heading back to the bar. “I have given away so much alcohol tonight.”

            “It’ll even out,” Koujaku tells him, standing as well and following him. “I’ll make sure.”

            “I’m not worried,” Mizuki says. He jumps onto the bar and balances over it on his stomach, reaching underneath. “I just have to do so much re-stocking now.”

            He rocks backwards, back onto his feet, and brandishes a full bottle of something. Koujaku again can’t tell what it is – he’s sufficiently drunk at this point, but more than willing to continue drinking. Mizuki opens the bottle and takes a long swig, then hands it to Koujaku.

            “This will be just ours for the rest of the night,” he says and Koujaku takes it with a smile. Mizuki is looking into the crowd of people that litter the front of Black Needle, and Koujaku steals a sidelong glance to study his friend. Mizuki is red-eyed and swaying right now, but Koujaku is suddenly overwhelmed with the relief that one of his best friends is back and healthy and happy and he feels it in his chest when he thinks about what he would have done if Mizuki hadn’t recovered. He’d always considered Mizuki close, but it wasn’t until Platinum Jail that he realized just how important he was to him. He takes a drink of the alcohol finally – it’s vodka, and it’s fucking strong – and then he slaps Mizuki on the back.

            “Hey,” he shouts into his ear.

            “Fuck,” Mizuki flinches and pulls his face away. “What?”

            “I’m really glad you’re back, man,” Koujaku tells him. His lips almost graze Mizuki’s skin and Mizuki has to put an arm around him to grip his opposite shoulder and push him away, but Koujaku isn’t done.

            “Get off, dumbass.”

            “No,” Koujaku whines, “I just – I’m – hold on, I’m gonna get on the bar.”

            “You’re – what are you doing?” Mizuki asks, but it’s too late. Koujaku beelines for the bar and starts to climb onto it like a toddler on a jungle gym. He thinks he feels Mizuki tugging on the back of his kimono, but he pulls away and steadies himself on his knees. The bar is slippery, but he manages to bring himself upright and before he can get a word out, all of Beni Shigure is cheering him on. He thrusts the vodka into the air and it sloshes out and onto the floor.

            “Well, that’s definitely a party foul,” Mizuki mutters, but Koujaku can’t be bothered. He gestures to Mizuki with his free hand, palm up and fingers together, and thinks for a moment before he speaks.

            “I’m – on the bar,” Koujaku observes, to more cheers. “And I – love _all_ of you!” There’s another eruption of excited yelling, and Koujaku has to shush them so that he can continue:

            “A year ago – a lot of – weird shit happened. And we – I don’t know, it was hard, and I lost one of my best friends, Mizuki. I mean, I thought I lost him, but I didn’t, because he’s here tonight, like, he’s standing right. Here. In front of me. But I lost him for a little while. And that was really scary. And I’m so glad he’s here tonight and that we’re all here and you guys are all – I love you all!”

            “Get off my bar.” Mizuki is not amused.

            Hollering echoes through the shop and people are gathering around the front door to try to poke their heads in, but the party must have grown since Koujaku last went outside, because the crowd is too great to fit through the door. As he’s scanning the mob, a blur of blue pops out at him. Aoba is smiling softly up at him, and he feels heat in his cheeks. Aoba beaming at him is all Koujaku ever wants, and when he sees Ren’s chin resting lazily on his shoulder, his chest swells. He feels a bitter pang of jealousy for all of a second, but then he pushes it aside. He shoves it into a room in the crevices of his mind, and he shuts it out. He can only be happy for Aoba and Ren. He can only allow himself to be happy for them and before he can stop himself, he’s thrusting the bottle in their direction.

            “That’s – party foul number two, I’m keeping count, asshole.”

            “And _Aoba,”_ Koujaku coos. “My _best_ friend, Aoba. I almost – lost him too,” Koujaku says. He leaves out that he’s referring to the three months after Oval Tower fell, and not the few days before they found him unconscious at the hands of Virus and Trip inside the tower. “That was, quite honestly, the most terrifying thing that I have gone through in the past decade. And it was right after Mizuki, and I – I didn’t have _much_ time to be concerned before he found R – before we found him, but – then there’s – and he found Ren, and thank God, because Ren – Ren’s great, and it’s just – I’m so glad he’s here and – you all mean so much to me. You make life worth – you make it worth not – it’s – it’s just the reason why I didn’t – you – I’m drunk.”

            Mizuki puts his arms out and Koujaku carefully bends down and crawls into them. The entire bar is in hysterics as Koujaku descends from his spirituous soapbox, clutching Mizuki like a child does his mother.

            “That was embarrassing,” Mizuki smirks. He tries to let go but Koujaku clings.           

            “I’m glad you’re here,” he says, and pulls him into a tight hug that he expects Mizuki to refuse, but he feels Mizuki’s body relax into him.

            “I am too,” he says, and he claps his hand around Koujaku’s back. Koujaku inhales, and he’s glad to know that Mizuki smells like deodorant and alcohol. And cats.

            “You smell like a litter box,” he says as they pull away. Mizuki smiles softly.

            “And you’re a piece of shit. I guess that’s why we work.”

            Koujaku is shocked to find out how early it is, and he’s determined not to be the first to pass out, so he spends the next hour drinking water instead. He asks Clear if he’s drunk yet but Clear just raises his shoulders up and down. He must be talking, excited as always, but Koujaku can’t hear him through the mask.

            “Why don’t you just take that off for a second? I can’t hear you.”

            Clear’s head shakes violently from side to side and Koujaku shrugs.

            It’s about an hour after his bar escapade that he runs into Aoba again, who smirks knowingly at him from a few feet away. When they make their way over to each other, Koujaku doesn’t know what to say, so he’s relieved when Aoba speaks first.

            “That was _cute_ ,” he teases, jerking his head to the bar. His cheeks are pink but he doesn’t seem inebriated. Aoba tends to stay away from alcohol, though Koujaku has never really understood why.

            “Well,” he stutters, feeling a blush creep onto his own face. “Maybe I’ve had a few too many.”

            “I’d say,” Aoba smiles. He leans in and punches Koujaku’s shoulder lightly.

            “I meant it though,” Koujaku says. He surprises himself when he hears how deep and serious he sounds. “I really did.”

            Aoba looks him in the eye for a few seconds, his smile unwavering.

            “I know you did,” he says. “Koujaku, you mean a lot to me, too.”

            Koujaku grins. He puts an arm around Aoba and pulls him close. Aoba reaches up to hug him.

            “I’m just not going to get on a bar and declare my love for you to everyone when I’m trashed,” he adds, and Koujaku knows it’s a punch line. Aoba’s just joking, but he has no clue how wrong he is. That if Koujaku was going to declare his love for Aoba, he would have said a lot more than what he just did.

            Ren approaches him later and thanks him for the kind words. Koujaku is sitting on the steps outside in the alley, holding his head in his hands. The ground is sort of spinning, but he’s sobered up enough to feel a little embarrassed about what he said – not embarrassed enough to regret it whole-heartedly, but it’s something he wouldn’t have minded keeping to himself.

            “Ren,” he says, lifting a hand up aimlessly. “I know the situation is strange, but it doesn’t matter to me. I’m not entirely sure what to say all the time, but I’m… glad you’re here.”

            “I’m glad to be here,” Ren replies with a nod of his head. He isn’t smiling but he sounds sincere. Ren is always sincere. “To be here with you.”

            It’s nice to hear Ren speak and know that he’s not programmed to say the words.

            Ren leaves him there, tells him he and Aoba will be going home soon and Koujaku says he’ll try to find them before they do but he needs a few more minutes to get some air. He’s not sure where the urge to vomit comes from, but he fights it for a few seconds before he gulps in several deep breaths and wonders if he needs more water.

            Before he can gather the energy to stand, he feels a body throw itself next to him on the stairs. He turns, expecting Kou or Mizuki, but when he sees whom it is, and he feels his stomach churn again.

            “God,” he mutters. “So you showed up.”

            “Yeah,” Noiz says. He leans forward and puts his head in his hand; his elbow perched on his knee. He turns toward Koujaku and stares him down.

            “Well, it’s just about over now, so you could probably just go home instead,” Koujaku offers. Noiz simply smiles condescendingly in response and Koujaku remembers his promise to Aoba. He sighs dramatically and asks, “How long you been here?”

            “A while,” Noiz answers. “Long enough to see that beautiful speech you gave.”

            “God,” Koujaku says again, putting his head in his hands. He’s not _that_ self-conscious; he just doesn’t want to talk to Noiz about it.

            “Yeah,” Noiz nods. “Pretty embarrassing. So, you love Aoba, huh?”

            Koujaku lifts his head and looks around, bewildered. He knew this was coming. It was only a matter of time before he found himself completely alone with Noiz, totally vulnerable and caught off guard.

            “What are you talking about?”

            “About how you love Aoba, sorry, do I need to speak louder? For your old ears?”

            “That’s hilarious,” Koujaku says, snapping his head to the side. “Did you read that joke in a book?”

            Noiz smiles slowly, as if Koujaku has thoroughly entertained him.

            “I don’t know, did you read that comeback in a book?”

            “Why are you even here? Why did you come? You know Mizuki just invited you to be kind, because he’s too nice for his own good.”

            Noiz hums but doesn’t respond.

            “I don’t get why you’re even here if all you’re going to do is give me shit,” Koujaku continues. “Fine, come to the party. Fine, whatever. But leave me alone.”

            “I just feel bad for you.”

            “ _Why_? _”_

            Noiz shrugs.

            “Because you need to, you know. Snap out of it. And you can’t.”

            “Snap out of what?”

            “I just said. You love Aoba.”

            “Of course I love Aoba,” Koujaku says finally. If that’s what Noiz wants to hear, Koujaku has no problem saying it. “I just said I do. I love Aoba and I love Mizuki and I love Beni Shigure and – ”

            “Don’t try to pull that shit,” Noiz interrupts. “You know exactly what I mean. You’re _in love_ with Aoba.”

            Koujaku opens his mouth but then shuts it quickly when he realizes this is what he’s wanted. He’s wanted someone to call him out on this, he’s been praying that someone would one day _force_ it out of him.

            But it’s _Noiz_. The moment he’s been cultivating in his head is here. It’s big, it’s important, and it’s _Noiz_. It’s heartbreaking. Koujaku can’t let himself breakdown now, not with Noiz.

            “I don’t know if you know this,” he says slowly, leaning in so he can speak softly, “but I have had sex with almost every girl here.”

            Noiz echoes him, leaning his head in as well, and says, “So?”

            “So,” Koujaku pushes forward even more, “I have sex with women.”

            Noiz closes the gap between them. Their foreheads meet as Noiz says, “That doesn’t mean you can’t have sex with men.”

            Koujaku doesn’t pull away. He tells himself it’s because he wants to call Noiz’s bluff – he wants to make Noiz be the one to get even closer if he wants to, but there’s a part of him that realizes how warm Noiz is and it’s kind of chilly out tonight. There’s also a part of him that notices how soft Noiz’s skin is, almost like a woman’s, and that’s when he pulls himself back to reality.

            “I’m not having sex with men,” he says. Good save.

            “You can be, if you want, you know. It’s called bisexual.”

            Oh. This old topic, again. All he knows right now is that he’s drunk and he loves Aoba. He’d do anything Aoba wanted, if Aoba ever wanted to be with him. Then he also realizes that if Noiz put his lips to his ears at this very moment and asked him to fuck him right here on the stairs, he might do it –

            No. No, he wouldn’t do that. He might fuck another guy on the stairs, but not Noiz. Still, he doesn’t want to give Noiz any sort of indication that he might be interested in guys, so he blinks slowly and then locks eyes with him again.

            “I’m not,” he says, taking a deep breath, “ _bisexual_.”

            “Are you sure? You’ve never had sex with a guy?”

            “ _No._ ”

            “You’ve never had sex with Aoba?

            “I’ve never had sex with Aoba.”

            “But you want to.”

            Koujaku finally pulls his head away. Noiz is a pest and Koujaku can endure that now, but he’s coming dangerously close to crossing a line again. He should know by now that Koujaku won’t tolerate him talking about Aoba, but he _knows_ he’s trying to bait him, and he doesn’t want to break his promise to Aoba.

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. “I said I loved Aoba because I love Aoba. He’s been my friend since we were children. I doubt you’ve ever been friends with anyone for long enough to know what that feels like. Who would want to be friends with _you_?”

            Koujaku has found the one thing that really seems to shut Noiz up.

            “Hm,” Noiz grunts. When Koujaku glances at him, he’s looking at the ground idly. His jawline looks tensed; he must be clenching it. “Well, I hope you don’t, then. Love Aoba. Because it looks like he’s made his choice.” He looks over to Koujaku and finishes, “And it wasn’t you.”

            Koujaku’s fingers clench together on their own and he has to flex his arm muscles in order to keep them down. He growls from the back of his throat but he can’t think of anything to say so he simply sits there, staring Noiz in the eye, who is unflinchingly rigid. He _has_ to keep his promise to Aoba, _he has to keep his promise –_

            “I just feel sorry for you, you know,” Noiz says. “I mean, you’re a dumbass in a lot of ways, but I don’t think you’re so bad that you deserve a – what’s the word? Unrequited love.”

            Koujaku hears his nails pull against the rubbery leather on his palms as his fists ball tighter.

            “Get over it. He doesn’t love you.”

            Koujaku turns, grips Noiz’s neck in one hand, and throws him down onto the dusty streets, straddling his waist. He throws one punch – just one – right to his nose, and Noiz’s head flies back, but Koujaku is careful not to let his skull hit the concrete. There’s a loud _crunch_ when his fist connects with Noiz’s nose, and Koujaku can already tell he hasn’t broken it, but it’s definitely bleeding. Noiz’s sides contract violently as he gasps for air and Koujaku gets off him. He stands up, waiting for Noiz to come at him. The younger boy sits up, puts his fingers to his nose and stares up at him through his bangs but never makes a move to get up.

            “What?” Koujaku pants. “Not gonna hit back?”

            “No,” Noiz answers, pulling his fingers away. Bright red blood drips onto the ground. “I deserve that one.”

            “You deserved all of them.”

            He shrugs.

            “Maybe. But I’ll take a punch if it helps you out.”

            “What the fuck do you mean, ‘help me out?’”

            Noiz finally stands up, pushing his thumb against his nose and studying it. He seems surprised by the amount of blood but he doesn’t react at all to the pain.

            “I’ll tell you what you need to hear,” he answers. “I don’t care if you hit me.”

            It doesn’t make any sense. Maybe a close friend like Mizuki would be brutally honest with him regardless of his feelings, but Noiz doesn’t get to cross that line. He’s getting dangerously close to romanticizing their relationship, and Koujaku snarls.

“You’re a freak,” he spits.

            “Yeah,” Noiz nods, putting his hands in his pocket and letting the blood drip onto his lips, into his mouth, down his chin, all over his clothes. He passes by Koujaku, and makes his way for the exit of the alleyway to the main street, then turns and says, quietly, “I know.”

            Koujaku is bewildered by the events. Everything happened so fast and he’s still drunk. Honestly, he wants to hit Noiz a few more times, but instead he sits back down on the stairs to catch his breath. He plays it over in his mind again and again; Noiz’s face close to his, his breath on his neck; how he could _hear_ Noiz’s smirk in his voice; the way Noiz’s body felt under his, and he was right. Noiz is exactly the kind of guy he’d like to dominate in bed.

            He quickly jettisons the thought and studies his fist. It’s mostly unscathed, so he decides no one needs to know about the confrontation, not tonight at least. He doesn’t see Noiz the rest of the night and assumes he went home. Kou tells him that Aoba and Ren left, followed closely by the gas mask guy, and Koujaku nods.

            “So weird,” Kou says. “I’m used to seeing Aoba with his Allmate. I miss the dog.”

            “I know what you mean,” Koujaku mutters.

            “I love dogs,” Kou coos. “Especially the fluffy ones.”

            Koujaku can’t answer. He scours the place for Mizuki, but he can’t find him, so he assumes he’s slipped out to pass out somewhere. Beni Shigure and Dry Juice were known to party well into the morning, so he manages to slip out quietly too, and he walks home alone, as per his new routine.

            He thinks about the days that he used to walk Aoba home from work, then continue on to his place, or stay for dinner with Tae-san. He walked home alone then, but at least it was after he knew Aoba was safe and secure in his own bedroom. Maybe he’s being over-protective, but he can’t help it. It’s leftover anxiety from childhood that Aoba might run into a bully, that Aoba might need someone to protect him still.

            But he has Ren to protect him now, Koujaku reminds himself. He runs his hands through his hair repeatedly as he trudges home. He can’t get Aoba’s face out of his head, but that’s nothing new. A part of him suddenly wonders if Aoba ran into Noiz on the way home. They both left around the same time, probably. He wonders if Noiz lives anywhere near Aoba, then wonders why he’s wondering any of this at all.

            He washes his face when he gets home and then downs two glasses of water. He slides into bed, but he finds that when he closes his eyes, his head still spinning slightly, it’s not Aoba that resonates in his mind.

            It’s Noiz. Noiz, with blood running down his face, dripping precariously off his lips and into his mouth. Noiz, with blood staining his teeth, his tongue sticking out to lap it up, like a cat at a saucer. Koujaku’s entire body shivers and he feels something stir in his chest or his thighs or somewhere, he’s not sure where, but he chalks it up to the alcohol and rolls over, digs his face into his hands and groans.

            He doesn’t want to think about Aoba as he falls asleep anymore; it’s too hard. When he falls asleep thinking about Aoba, he wakes up thinking about Aoba, and it’s too much for him to handle when he reaches over in the morning, expecting a handful of blue hair, but only grabs Beni’s irritated feathers. He wants to be done with it; he wants to fast forward to a time where he can be in the same room as Aoba and Ren and not feel his heart aching with every second. He wants to –

            Get over it.

            Noiz’s voice echoes in his head and he rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling. He can’t believe Noiz was right about this. Noiz may have been right about this, but that doesn’t mean anything. Noiz doesn’t mean anything.

            Then again, it’s Noiz’s hair and skin and eyes that replace Aoba’s when he falls asleep this time, not by _choice_ of course, and when he wakes up, he chalks the stiffness in his boxers up to the alcohol and maybe a dream or two he can’t remember (which he is sure were about beautiful women). He sighs and takes a deep breath, tries to imagine a woman he’s never met as he reaches into his boxers and grabs himself. He tries to think of anyone but Noiz and his hair and how soft it might feel between his fingers, tugging it up and feeling the resistance at the roots.

 _No_ , he resolves. He thinks about his dream girl, long hair and soft eyes and impossibly round, and she’d look great riding someone. He tries to imagine her body bouncing up and down, fleshy and lively, and then he wonders what Noiz would look like riding someone; stomach taut and upper arms tensed as he grips the sheets.

 _No_.

            The girl is a brunette, or maybe even a redhead – she’s dark, and has plenty of curves to hug. She doesn’t look like Noiz. Koujaku imagines her lips around his cock; he wonders if Noiz has ever gotten on his knees before. He probably has. He seems the type –

            Every time a different vision of Noiz pops into his head, Koujaku tells himself that it’s just morbid curiosity, that he’s going to think about a woman and that Noiz isn’t getting him off. When he comes against his hand he’s thinking about the girl he slept with a couple weeks ago – he feels terrible, too, using a real person for his fantasies – but he can live with himself a little easier knowing that it wasn’t Noiz that made him come.

            He lies in his bed afterwards, spent, just from his own hand, and convinces himself this wasn’t strange. It was the alcohol. It was a physical need. Noiz was on his mind and the brain is capable of some pretty strange shit.

            There’s a knock on his front door and he’s grateful that there’s something to interrupt this train of thought. The sun is out but Koujaku is definitely not presentable and it takes him a few moments to get out of bed and clean himself off before he heads to the front door. Whoever is on the other side knocks several more times, and they come more spaced out, more obnoxious, more tired. Koujaku knows who it is.

            “Pretty obnoxious,” he says as he opens the door. “I was asleep, you know.”

            “That’s why I brought you coffee and donuts,” Mizuki says, holding up two cardboard cups. Koujaku takes the bag that’s rolled up under his arm and lets him in.

            “You know, you’re so mean when you’re drunk,” he says as they walk down the hallway to the kitchen.

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mizuki replies, his voice high and sweet. They sit down at Koujaku’s kitchen table and he squints at Mizuki, who takes a sip of his coffee and then peers at him from over the rim. “You’re the one who said I smelled like a litter box,” he says with a smile.

            “Do you really think I’m a piece of shit?”

            “Definitely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what am i doing? my best


	4. do you want to be with somebody like me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sgt koujaku's lonely heart's club band

            It’s been two weeks since Mizuki’s party, and Koujaku hasn’t seen Noiz once. He’s grateful for that, for the plethora of obvious reasons, not least of all that he doesn’t have to explain his injured nose to Aoba. As far as Koujaku can surmise, no one knows about his altercation with Noiz. Without him around, no one has to.

            It feels like things have started to stabilize. Koujaku has gone back to his routine – haircuts, women, bar time, pining, bed – with a few extra women added in. Sometimes he manages to skip the pining, and every time he does, it’s a relief. He likes waking up with a soft curve to hug in one hand and a handful of hair to wrap around his fingers. It’s comforting to have someone who wants him to make them breakfast, to have someone who wants to shower with him, to have someone who wants to see him again. He never does – see them again – but it’s encouraging to know someone wants to.

            He goes out most Fridays and Saturdays, usually with Mizuki and the guys from Beni Shigure, but Aoba and Ren have started to tag along more often as well. It’s awkward, having a couple in the middle of the group of single men, but Koujaku pretends there’s no tension in the air as Aoba smirks at him when a girl asks him if he wants to come over to her place (he doesn’t, but he goes anyway). Somehow Mizuki always ends up at his place Saturday and Sunday mornings, with breakfast and coffee. Koujaku starts to wonder if Mizuki is wanting for something more too.

            “I don’t even remember half the things I did last night,” he says, staring out Koujaku’s kitchen window. His foot is crossed over his opposite knee and Koujaku looks up from his coffee.

            “You were that drunk?”

            Mizuki closes his eyes slowly, as if he’s annoyed, and then opens them again. He licks his lower lip and takes a deep breath.

            “No. I just didn’t do anything worth remembering.”

            Koujaku frowns at his friend but he doesn’t know how to answer so they sip their coffee in silence.

            Friday approaches again, and after the last haircut of the day, Koujaku heads over to Black Needle to meet with Mizuki. They have a full night planned, of mostly the same shit as always – bars, alcohol, girls, home, then breakfast in the morning.

            But the shop is practically vibrating from the street when Koujaku approaches, and he wonders what’s going on. When he steps inside, the entire building is packed with people, mostly drinking, and mostly from Dry Juice. He shares several awkward greetings before he finally makes his way through the crowd and to the bar, where he finds Mizuki, hurriedly serving the Ribsters around him. He doesn’t usually bartend; he tends to only make drinks for his friends and when the shop is slow, so Koujaku isn’t sure what’s going on, but when he finally catches his eye all Mizuki can do is shake his head in bewilderment.

            “What’s going on?” Koujaku mouths. Mizuki shrugs. His eyes look like they’re begging for help, but then they light up, as if he’s just remembered something. He nods to the end of the bar and Koujaku has to bend forward to peer down the length to see whom Mizuki is pointing at.

            He wishes he had bent backwards, or perhaps not been so obvious, or perhaps not come to the God damn bar at all when Noiz catches his eyes. He’s sitting at the very end of the long counter, a small tumbler in front of him filled with a bright blue liquid. He smirks and waves; Koujaku groans and rolls his eyes. His first instinct is to go home, but Mizuki is obviously overloaded and he doesn’t want to leave him to a chaotic bar like this. He also hears Aoba’s voice echo in his head _again_ ; that low, pleading voice that asks him to try to get along with Noiz. He doubts it’ll ever leave him alone.

            If being civil with Noiz will make Aoba happy, he’ll try to keep doing it, but from now on, he’s doing it on his own terms.

            He makes his way down to Noiz, grabs a stool on the way and shoves it unceremoniously next to the blond, sitting himself down harshly and putting an elbow on the bar. He puts his head in his hand and stares at Noiz, eyes narrowed and lips thin. Noiz immediately echoes the gesture, putting his head in his own hand and returning Koujaku’s gaze.

            “Hey, babe,” he says. “Fancy meeting you here.”

            Koujaku bares his teeth in a wide smile.

            “What are you doing here?”

            “My Friday night was free. Thought I’d come catch up.”

            “Look, if you’re going to come around here, then here are the ground rules. No fucking –”

            “Ground rules?”

            “Yeah, shut up and listen. You’re insufferable. But we can get along a little better if you just listen to me.”

            “Who says I want to get along?”

            “Why would you keep coming around if you didn’t want to hang out with someone?”

            Noiz doesn’t answer, but a small smirk tugs at his lips. Good, he’s going to listen. Koujaku is finally going to lay down the law.

            “Rule number one. Don’t talk about Aoba.”

            “That’s hard,” Noiz interrupts. “I see Aoba a lot. It would be pretty rude not to talk to him. That means sometimes I may have to talk _about_ him.”  

            “You know what I mean, bastard,” Koujaku growls. “Don’t talk about _me_ and Aoba. Don’t you _dare_ talk about Aoba in a sexual manner, and don’t talk about any of my other friends like that, either.”

            “Am I allowed to talk about _you_ sexually?”

            “Sure,” Koujaku glares. He takes Noiz’s glass and downs the drink; it tastes sweet, like flavored vodka and soda. Disgusting. Noiz doesn’t react. “Hit on me all you like. I know it’s hard for you to resist.”

            “You know me so well.”

            “Second rule. If you fuck with anyone – especially Aoba – I’ll ruin your life.”

            “That’s really intimidating.”

            He’s being sarcastic, but Koujaku doesn’t care.

            “That’s fine. Be a brat. But I’m serious. If you hurt any of my friends, I’ll hurt you. Don’t take advantage of Mizuki. He’s being a lot nicer to you than you deserve.”

            Noiz sits back suddenly, his eyes traveling to the floor, and he scoots his stool in awkwardly. Koujaku notices his change in demeanor, but Noiz quickly puts his elbow back on the table and looks at Koujaku again.

            “I’m not gonna fuck with Mizuki.”

            “G – good,” Koujaku says, a little confused. Koujaku has noticed this before; something about Mizuki throws Noiz off, but he doesn’t know what. Or why. He doesn’t really care right now, though. “Anyway, third rule. If you follow the first two rules, I won’t feel the need to punch you. So don’t punch me first.”

            “I wouldn’t have to punch you if you’d fight me.”

            “That doesn’t make any sense.”

            “I meant in Rhyme,” he says. “I’m always open.”

            “I bet you are,” Koujaku tips his head down as he smiles suggestively and Noiz laughs, loud and cheerfully, like Koujaku has never heard him before. Koujaku shakes his head and stands up to reach around the bar and fish around to find something to drink. He knew Noiz would laugh at that. Noiz is still young – still a teenager, really – and his immaturity is, Koujaku admits begrudgingly, somewhat endearing. 

            “What are you doing?” he asks.

            “Trying to find something to drink.”

            Noiz stands from his stool suddenly, gripping the bar for a couple seconds as he studies the shelf behind it. Koujaku stills his movements and watches Noiz as he lets himself behind the bar and pulls a bottle off the shelf. It’s a much brighter blue than the one Mizuki had at his party, and Noiz comes back around, puts it in front of Koujaku, and stares at him. Koujaku pulls his hand back from the bar and looks at it.

            “What is it?”

            “Blueberry vodka.”

            “That sounds disgusting.”

            Noiz shrugs.

            “It’s sweet.”

            “I don’t like drinks with a lot of sugar,” Koujaku tells him. Noiz grins.

            “Does it upset your tummy?”

            “Something like that,” Koujaku mutters. He swipes the bottle and quickly uncaps it, taking a swig and swallowing it as quickly as possible. It’s not terrible. The sweetness is cut off by the bitter tang of vodka, but it’s not the worst thing Koujaku’s ever had. Of course, he doesn’t want to admit that. “This is shit.”

            “It’s okay,” Noiz says, reaching out and trying to pat Koujaku’s stomach. Koujaku pulls away. “You have a sensitive old tummy.”

            “Don’t,” Koujaku says idly. He takes another drink and then glances around the bar. He’s still not sure how this many people ended up here; usually Black Needle is not exactly a nightlife hotspot. The bar is really just there to function as a waiting area for the tattoo shop, but Mizuki keeps it stocked with so much alcohol that it can certainly serve as a real bar, as evidenced by the crowd that surrounds Koujaku. His lip curls up as he surveys the mob of people and considers what to do, but it turns out he doesn’t need to. He feels Noiz’s fingers curl around the bottle in his hand.

            “Wanna go outside?”

            Koujaku turns to him; Noiz is staring at the floor, unflinching, not daring to look Koujaku in the eye. Koujaku smirks.

            “You want to go outside with me?”

            Noiz yanks the bottle out of his hand and turns around, heading to the side door. At first, Koujaku chuckles to himself and turns back to the bar. He plans on saying bye to Mizuki and heading home for the night, but then he gives it a second thought. It might be fun to follow Noiz, not because he’s dying to spend _any_ time with him, but because this is finally something to hold over him. He wonders if Noiz might try to call him out for giving into him, but then he shakes his head and laughs to himself as he stands up and follows Noiz out and into the back alley. If Noiz tries to give him shit, he’ll give him shit right back.

            He exchanges a few awkward greetings with acquaintances and when he gets outside, Noiz has one foot against a wall and the bottle to his lips. It’s almost half gone already.

            “How drunk are you trying to get tonight?” he asks with a low chuckle. Noiz pulls the bottle away from his lips and rolls his eyes.

            “I can hold my liquor a lot better than you can.”

            “I’m sure,” Koujaku says, taking the bottle from him. “So, you wanted to have a moment alone with me, eh?”

            “You figured me out,” Noiz smiles briefly. It fades after just a few seconds and he says, “I just – don’t like the crowds like that.”

            It’s the most honest Koujaku has ever seen him, so he pauses for a moment. It takes him by such surprise that he decides to try to be honest back.

            “Like what?” he asks quietly.

            Noiz shrugs.

            “I don’t like – loud crowds.”

            “Really? They didn’t seem to bother you with Rhyme.”

            “I wasn’t trying to talk to anyone then,” Noiz says. His eyes meet Koujaku’s. “I can’t hear you talk over them. There’s too much – whatever.”

            Koujaku thinks for a moment.

            “Distraction?”

            “Stimulation.”

            Koujaku nods, takes a long drink of vodka and then hands it back to him. Noiz takes it but doesn’t drink immediately. He stares at the ground and Koujaku feels a little awkward, like the conversation has gotten _too_ honest.

            “Well, you should have told me you wanted to talk to me,” he says. “I’m not surprised you want to know all about me.”

            “That’s exactly it,” Noiz grins. “I want to know all about you. Tell me everything about you.”

            Koujaku can appreciate that Noiz goes with the change of atmosphere. He smiles and takes a breath to reply, something simple and sarcastic, some obvious lie about his life so that Noiz knows not to pry, but that’s when he’s overtaken by an urge to confess to Noiz – to tell him he was right at Mizuki’s party, when he said he knew that Koujaku was in love with Aoba. He closes his mouth quickly so that the words don’t escape and his eyes widen when he realizes what he almost did. Noiz raises his eyebrows.

            “What…?” he prompts.

            “Nothing,” Koujaku shakes his head. “I don’t have anything to say. You – if I tell you everything about me now, what will be left to find out on your own?”

            Noiz’s lips curl up on one side into a wry smile and his eyes search the alley as if he’s looking for something. Koujaku knows it wasn’t the smartest reply, but it was the best he could come up with.

            “What… does that mean?”

            “I don’t know, shut up,” Koujaku snaps, grabbing the bottle back and chugging it for a few seconds.

            “Easy there,” Noiz nods. “It was my turn.”

            “Well, I made it mine,” Koujaku says. He hands it back.

            “So what would I have to do to get you to tell me about yourself? Take you out? Do I have to seduce you?” Noiz licks his lips before he brings the bottle to them and takes a quick sip. Koujaku sneers. As if Noiz would have to seduce him. Koujaku already wants to pin him to a bed and destroy him – no. No. No he doesn’t. Drunken Koujaku wonders about it idly sometimes, but not sober, normal Koujaku.

            “Yeah,” he says flatly. “Except I don’t go out with men.”

            “Oh,” Noiz rolls his eyes. “This again.”

            “What again?”

            “If you’re in love with Aoba, you’re obviously up to dating men.”

            Koujaku does _not_ want to have this conversation again. He quickly deflects the subject.

            “I said no talking about Aoba.”

            “Hm,” Noiz hums with a smile. “You know what I don’t understand?”

            “What?” Koujaku asks, sharp and loud. He swears to God, if Noiz pushes it –

            “If you _weren’t_ in love with Aoba, you wouldn’t get so upset about it, would you?” Noiz asks. “You wouldn’t care. Not enough to make up a rule about it.”

            He’s pushing it.

            “Oh yeah?” Koujaku growls. “Don’t forget, rule number three was I wouldn’t punch you if you didn’t break rules one or two and right now you’re breaking rule one.”

            “So punch me. I don’t care.”

            Koujaku deflates as he exhales all his breath out of his nose like a bull. He’s exhausted and doesn’t feel like calling Noiz’s bluff. He racks his brain for something clever, but he can’t get past Noiz’s apathy. It’s like he _wants_ to fight, like he _wants_ Koujaku to throw as many punches as he can. Koujaku can’t wrap his head around him and he’s too tired to fight with him right now, too tired to have a breakdown about his sexuality – what a cliché – so he asks him what he actually wants to know:

            “Why did you come here? Why do you ever come here?”

            Noiz’s head tips up; his eyelashes flutter as he looks up at Koujaku. Shivers prickle down Koujaku’s spine and Noiz doesn’t answer; he just stares. That’s almost answer enough. Koujaku’s not sure what Noiz’s story is, but he suddenly thinks that Aoba is right: Noiz is lonely.

            Koujaku wants to say something about it, but he can’t figure out anything appropriate. There’s so much about Noiz that infuriates him, but it all seems sort of petty at the moment, when he considers that he’s just a kid. He watches Noiz’s eyes cast downwards and the boy kicks the dirt with a dusty boot, before he opens his mouth to say something:

            “I think we actually have a lot in common.”

            It’s not the first time they’ve looked into each other’s eyes, but it’s the first time they’ve locked with each other outside of Oval Tower that isn’t fueled by hate or fire or an intense irritation or following a sarcastic come-on, and Koujaku looks into them for once without the urge to throw a punch. Noiz seems sincere. His face is blank, but his voice is quiet and humbled.

            “You do?” he asks. Noiz doesn’t answer so he prompts further, “And why do you think that?”

            Noiz blinks once and seems to be considering his next words carefully.

            “We’re both unloved.”

            Koujaku bristles at the statement; he straightens his back and squints at the younger boy. He doesn’t know what Noiz means, or if he’s trying to be cute, but it isn’t funny. He’s about to refute his words when it occurs to him –

            Noiz has just confessed that no one loves him.

            Koujaku puts one foot in front of the other, not to take a step forward but to brace himself. He realizes that it’s scary, a nineteen-year-old claiming that he is unloved, but he’s neither sure what to say to him about that, nor more worried about it over Noiz’s implication about him. Noiz thinks Koujaku is unloved? Koujaku doesn’t want to give that a moment’s thought, because it’s considerations like that which start to pry the doors in his mind open that he has so firmly locked shut. Instead, Koujaku regards Noiz with heavy-lidded eyes and thin lips. He crosses his arms and towers over him in an effort to intimidate.

            “Plenty of people love me,” he tells him, his voice low and grave, daring Noiz to keep talking. Noiz does, and quickly:

            “Yeah… but not the way you want them to.”

            It’s as if a switch is turned in his head.

            Koujaku finally admits that Noiz is right.

            Noiz understands how Koujaku feels about Aoba, how Aoba feels about Koujaku and he understands how the entire cluster fuck of a situation is playing out for them. How Noiz figured it out, Koujaku will never understand – how Aoba, or Mizuki, or anyone from Beni Shigure hasn’t caught on by now is bewildering, but somehow Noiz has figured him out.

            That doesn’t mean Koujaku has to admit it outright. He’ll never tell Noiz directly that he’s figured that part of him out. He tilts his head up, pointing his chin at the younger boy and studies him. Noiz is smirking, but it’s not as reckless and arrogant as usual; it actually seems sad, like Noiz is consoling him. And he is – he feels bad that he and Koujaku have this in common.

            Koujaku also suddenly realizes that Noiz is very brave.

            “Okay,” he says quietly, taking one step toward him, “so you think I’m unloved. I can’t confirm that for you. But you are nineteen. How could you possibly understand how that would feel? How could you possibly relate?”

            Noiz turns his head to look away and shoves his hands in his pockets. Koujaku practically holds his breath; this is the most serious moment he’s ever shared with Noiz, and to be honest, it’s one of the most straightforward conversations he’s ever had in his life.

            “I’ve been interested in people who weren’t interested in me back before,” Noiz says. The small, amused smile has returned and Koujaku scoffs. He supposes that candid moment is over, then. That’s fine; now he can go back to not caring about Noiz.

            “Aw,” he coos. “Little Noiz had a crush that didn’t like him back?”

            “Something like that.”

            “What was her name?”

            “You assume it’s a girl?”

            Koujaku rolls his eyes.

            “So, what? Are you saying _you’re_ bisexual?”

            “Yeah,” Noiz says brightly, his head perking up. “I am.”

            Koujaku stops and stares for a couple seconds. Noiz starts laughing like he’s just told the greatest joke on Earth and Koujaku cocks his head. He wasn’t kidding; he’s laughing at Koujaku’s shock, but he probably doesn’t understand that Koujaku is shocked not because he’s admitting to his bisexuality, but because if Noiz is interested in men, then –

            “Wait, so – when you hit on me – are you – _actually_ hitting on me?”

Koujaku can’t filter himself. He’s so overcome by the possibility that the words spill out of his mouth. He hopes it doesn’t sound too eager.

            “Don’t flatter yourself,” Noiz laughs. He shifts the vodka into one arm and then takes some money out of his pockets. He shoves both the bottle and the coins into Koujaku’s hands. “This is for the alcohol. I have to go. See you later.”

            Koujaku doesn’t answer. He has to put the bottle on the ground to balance the money in his other hand and when he glances at it, he realizes it’s far too much.

            “Hey!” he calls. “This is way too much money, you know.”

            “It’s not a problem,” Noiz calls without looking back. He turns a corner and disappears, and Koujaku stands there staring at the end of the alleyway for a few seconds before he collects everything and goes back into the bar.

            He helps Mizuki bartend the rest of the night, but the vodka he’s already had quickly catches up to him and the night devolves into another party within the hour. He gives the money to Mizuki and when he raises an eyebrow at the amount, Koujaku shrugs.

            “He said it ‘wasn’t a problem,’” he tells him. “Show off.”

            “It’s fine by me,” Mizuki says quietly, taking the coins from Koujaku and pocketing them.

            A part of Koujaku sort of wishes Noiz had stayed for the outlandish night that ensued. He wants to know what Noiz is like at parties. He wants to know if Noiz is the kind to do body shots or stand up on the bar and sing or hook up in the bathroom. He wants to know if he, himself, is the kind of person to hook up in the bathroom. He wants to know if he and Noiz could ever get drunk enough to hook up in the bathroom.

           Then he remembers Noiz is probably not like any of those things. A party like this is probably too much stimulation for him.

            Whatever that means.

            The next day, Koujaku sleeps until noon, which is when Mizuki knocks on his door and asks if he wants to get breakfast. They change it to lunch, head downtown, and nurse their hangovers while they wait for their food.

            They haven’t said much at all when Mizuki suddenly asks, “ _What are we doing with our lives?”_ Koujaku chuckles. He thinks it’s a joke, a reference to the night before. He’s about to bring up the girl Mizuki made out with in the back room or the girl who snuck out of his own place earlier this morning, but then he notices Mizuki isn’t smiling.

            “What – Mizuki?”

           “I’m serious. What do you want to do with your life?”

            Koujaku doesn’t have the capacity to answer at the moment, so he shrugs and they spend the rest of the meal in relative silence. Koujaku considers it though, and he can’t come up with anything other than _have a family_. He frowns; that’s too obvious. That’s too common. That’s not what Mizuki means, he’s sure. He’s not sure he wants to wade into the thought too deeply though; what if he realizes he’s long overdue for a mid-mid-life crisis? Instead he sips his water and watches Mizuki pout the rest of the meal.

            The walk home is just as silent – until they see Noiz on the other side of the street. And Noiz sees them.

            “Of course,” Koujaku sighs.

            Noiz catcalls over to them. Mizuki doesn’t react whatsoever, so Koujaku flips him the middle finger. Noiz’s eyebrows furrow but he grins, makes a gun out of his thumb and forefinger and points it at his heart. He cocks it back and shoots, then grabs his chest and pretends to fold in on himself, his smirk in place the whole time.

            “ _Ow_ ,” he mouths. Koujaku rolls his eyes and his entire head moves with them. He turns back to the sidewalk in front of him.

            “It’s like he has a crush on you,” Mizuki mutters. Koujaku glances at him, ready to refute the claim, but he notices Mizuki has his hands in his pockets and he’s staring sullenly at the ground. He seems unhappy, so Koujaku leaves him alone and instead looks back at Noiz. He’s still watching them, too. Noiz puts his finger to the corner of his eye and traces a tear trail down his cheek with a sarcastic frown.

            “ _Shut up_ ,” Koujaku mouths back, focusing his attention back on Mizuki. He throws an arm around his friend and walks in silence back to Black Needle with him. He spends the rest of the day wondering if Noiz is the kind of person to have a crush.

            “We should do something with the whole group,” Aoba said the next day, which Koujaku grunted at, because since when did including Clear and Noiz constitute as “the whole group” and didn’t Aoba consider them a “group” before those two came along? Nevertheless, that’s how Koujaku finds himself walking along the crowded bar streets in the South district again with Aoba, Ren, Mizuki, Clear, and Noiz. Or, he supposes, “the whole group.”

            He notices that Noiz hangs back for the most part; close enough to make everyone feel like he’s still a part of the cluster, but a few steps behind, so that Koujaku feels studied, like Noiz is trying to observe them all when they’re not looking. That annoys Koujaku, so he slows down a bit and ends up walking next to Noiz, who seems to notice. When Koujaku glances at him, he grins, but keeps his eyes forward.

            Koujaku is about to jab him in the side with his elbow when there’s a small commotion in front of him. Aoba, who’s walking with one foot on the sidewalk and the other in the gutter, loses his footing and wobbles to one side. Koujaku doesn’t have time to think before he reacts. He drives his whole body forward and thrusts his arms out to grab his friend –

            And collides with Ren, who is reaching out to grab his _boy_ friend and Aoba’s hand reaches not for Koujaku, but for Ren. Koujaku sidles awkwardly to the other side of Aoba and grabs his other arm, but he’s already steadied and back on his feet by the time Koujaku grips him.

            “Thanks,” Aoba says, and Koujaku is about to tell him not to worry about it when he realizes Aoba is speaking to Ren. Then he turns and nudges Koujaku and adds, “And you.”

            Mizuki starts laughing, poking fun at Aoba for walking like a child with no motor skills, and Aoba pouts, teasing Mizuki back. Koujaku takes a deep breath before he hears a soft snicker next to him. He looks to Noiz, who’s staring at him with heavy lidded eyes and an amused smile.

            “What?”

            Noiz shrugs and shakes his head lightly.

            “ _What_?”

            He shrugs again, and then turns his head so he can whisper to Koujaku.

            “I told you. He made his choice.”

            Koujaku reacts almost as quickly to Noiz’s words as he did to Aoba’s falling. He grabs him by the arm and shoves him against the brick wall with such force that he can feel Noiz’s breath on his skin as he knocks all the air out of him, but he doesn’t throw even a single punch before Mizuki is grabbing his arms from behind and pulling him off. Mizuki puts all of his weight into shoving Koujaku away and starts swearing under his breath. He turns away and pinches the bridge of his nose, and Koujaku feels worse about Mizuki’s reaction than what Noiz said.

           He wants to say something to Mizuki but everything happens so fast: Aoba asks Noiz if he’s okay as Mizuki walks several feet ahead of them, noticeably annoyed. Clear responds a few moments too late by throwing his fists up and shouting, _“No fighting, please!”_ Koujaku gathers his composure in the middle of the street and notices some people staring. He narrows his eyes at them, silently insisting that they continue on their way.

            “What the hell, Koujaku?” Aoba shouts. “I thought we were past this?”

            Koujaku looks away and scoffs. He clenches his jaw to keep from saying anything he regrets. Noiz rolls his shoulders backwards and an awkward silence falls on the group as Koujaku realizes he’s expected to respond.

He has no idea what to say. He can’t tell Aoba what set him off and he can’t stay quiet. He glares at Noiz as he tries to come up with something, but the blond grins before he can.

            “It was my fault,” Noiz offers. Aoba turns to him and raises an eyebrow. Koujaku knows that face well; Aoba doesn’t believe him.

            “Really?” Aoba’s voice is low and sarcastic.

            Noiz shrugs.

            “We’re fine,” he says. He takes a few steps to Koujaku and locks eyes with him for one charged second before he throws an arm around his shoulders. Koujaku doesn’t smile, doesn’t put his arm around Noiz too, but he doesn’t tear himself away, either.

            “We’re fine,” he repeats. Mizuki turns around from several feet in front of them.

            “Let them figure their own shit out,” he calls, forging ahead and Aoba holds Koujaku’s gaze for a few seconds before he follows. Ren trails behind him and Clear manages to squeeze his way in between the boyfriends eventually while Koujaku is stuck in the back, Noiz’s arm still clasped firmly around his shoulders.

            “You can get your arm off me now,” he says quietly.

            “I like it there.”

            “I hate it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's getting weird to write the mizunoiz fic alongside with this one because everyone's dynamics are intertwining with each other


	5. hatefuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so many things that i would do
> 
> if i had my way with you

            This time it’s a Thursday night that Koujaku meets a tall, blonde girl who flutters her eyelashes at him at a bar and drapes herself along his shoulders when he asks if she’d like to go back to his place; it’s a Friday morning that he shakes her gently awake and runs his lips down her back as he tells her he has work to do. She turns over in his sheets and smiles gently, whines that she never wants to leave, and Koujaku gives her a thoughtful smile.

            “I wish you didn’t have to either,” he murmurs, stilling his lips on her stomach and running one hand down her side. “But it’s the time apart that make moments like this that much sweeter.”

            She doesn’t answer, only puts her hands on either side of his head and pulls him up gently to look him in the eyes. She studies him and then she – smirks. Koujaku has seen it a thousand times – on other women – and he knows it’s a suggestion, an invitation to help himself further to her body, but all he can see in that smile is –

            “You have to go,” he says, fumbling as he stands from the bed, gripping at the sheet and pulling it up to cover him.

            “What the hell –!” She reaches up to snatch it back from him but Koujaku isn’t worried about being naked; he just wants her out.

            “You have to leave now,” he repeats. “Just – I have to get ready to go – ” He backs up to his dresser and grabs his kimono from the night before and drapes it in front of himself. “Just – see yourself out?”

            He edges out of the room and down the hall, listens for several minutes for the front door to open and shut – violently – and finally he can breathe again. He turns to the shower head and finally drops his kimono, but when it brushes against his cock on the way down he realizes he’s hard and it fills him with such dread that his heartbeat starts to quicken.

            It wasn’t the smirk, he assures himself. It wasn’t that Noiz’s face popped into his head, it wasn’t that he momentarily considered what it would be like to have the blond boy in his bed, eyes begging Koujaku to fuck him. It was the girl’s skin, her hips, her breasts, and her blue – blue? – eyes… maybe they were green.

            Noiz has green eyes, he remembers as he comes against the side of his tub and then slides down into the warm water and stews in his own filth for a few minutes. This has been a weird morning but for now he can chalk it up to the naked body he woke up next to, the naked body he existed in next to her. He can’t decide if it would be better to convince himself that she resembled Noiz or not – at least if she did, it would be understandable that he’d see his face in hers and he’s not just popping up uninvited and ruining his sex life.

            Then again, does that mean he was attracted to her because she looked like Noiz? Could he have realized that last night? He was a little drunk but not _that_ far gone and he doesn’t recall thinking about him as he was kissing her in his bed or caressing her skin with his fingertips. That reminds him of how soft Noiz’s skin looks and before he can think much further about it, he stands and drains the tub, grabs a towel and dries him vigorously. He shakes out his hair violently and then whips the towel to the floor.

            Koujaku tries to get through the day one appointment at a time. He’s glad for the company, at least; most of the girls’ conversation distracts him from the trying morning. They all have dark hair. Koujaku is grateful. There’s a quiet girl in particular whose hair is exceptionally long and forgiving, exactly like his mother’s. He smiles to himself as he runs his fingers through it and asks to braid it. She says of course and he admires the loose braid when she turns to leave twenty minutes later.

            Koujaku calls Mizuki and asks him to meet for lunch. Mizuki seems enthusiastic about the idea, but by the time they’re sitting in the restaurant waiting on their food, he’s quiet again. He’s been like this so often, distant and contemplating absent-mindedly while staring out the window

            “Hey,” Koujaku nudges him. “What’s up?”

            “What do you mean?” Mizuki pulls himself from his reveries and looks at Koujaku with tired eyes. Not annoyed, but genuinely sleepy.

            “You’ve been so quiet lately. Are you alright?”

            “Have I?” Mizuki smiles. Koujaku cocks his head.

            “Yeah. Are you okay?”

            Mizuki doesn’t answer right away but his smile brightens. Then he shakes his head and looks away again.

            “I’m fine. I’m thinking about taking a vacation.”

            “Oh? Where?”

            Mizuki shrugs.

            “Somewhere in India. Maybe somewhere in Europe. Who knows?”

            Koujaku tips his head up as he studies Mizuki’s face, but nothing indicates that he’s lying or being sarcastic. It’s a little troubling though, and Koujaku can’t pinpoint why.

            “You plan on coming back?” he asks suddenly, and Mizuki turns to him sharply, his smile gone.

            “Of course.”

            Their food arrives and an awkward silence falls on them. Neither wants to speak and Koujaku especially doesn’t know how to start a new conversation, he’s so focused on the idea of Mizuki leaving. He wonders what it would be like without Mizuki around and his heart instantly starts to beat faster – the thought of having to get by without Mizuki is terrifying. Simply sitting next to him, his mere presence calms Koujaku immensely, and he’s not sure how he’d get through things like this morning without his best friend.

 _This morning_. He remembers it suddenly, and that’s when Noiz’s face pops back into his head. The same one, the same, imagined _fuck-me_ face from this morning in bed with the girl. It’s suddenly the only thing that Koujaku can think of and it sucks all the breath out of him. What would Noiz look like bent over this very table, twisting his torso and turning back to look at Koujaku with that face, with that pleading, begging face –

            Koujaku stomps one foot and shakes his head violently to get rid of the thought. Mizuki’s head shoots up. Koujaku startled him.

            “The fuck?”

            “Nothing,” Koujaku breathes. He prays Mizuki doesn’t notice that he’s sweating.

            “Too spicy?”

            “Yeah,” Koujaku mumbles. He doesn’t remark that Mizuki sounds an awful lot like Noiz when he says that; he doesn’t let the thought meander in his brain for more than a second before he instinctively shoves it out. He can’t keep thinking about this. He can’t keep letting Noiz in. Then Mizuki chuckles.

            “I forgot you had such a sensitive tummy.”

Koujaku drops his chopstick, grabs his forehead and leans forward onto his elbow. That’s exactly what Noiz said the night at Black Needle that they shared the blueberry vodka. Mizuki is taken aback by Koujaku’s reaction and asks, “Hey, what the hell is wrong with you?”

            “Nothing!” Koujaku shouts. This can’t be happening. “I don’t feel well. I think I’m sick.”

            “Do you need anything?”

            “No,” Koujaku shakes his head. “I think I just need to go home.”

            “Okay,” Mizuki nods. He puts a hand on Koujaku’s back and rubs between his shoulder blades and the touch sends shivers down Koujaku’s spine. “Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

            “I’m sure,” Koujaku says, standing up. He reaches into his pocket but Mizuki shakes his head.

            “Just go home, I’ll get the bill.”

            “No.” Koujaku’s voice quivers and Mizuki points to the door.

            “Go home. I’ll bring you soup or noodles or whatever later.”

            “You don’t have to do that,” Koujaku says, still fumbling with his pocket. He’s not really sick, after all. And he still has more appointments lined up. He just has to get out of here right now.

            “I’ll do whatever I want,” Mizuki says. “Go home. I’ll call you.”

            Koujaku stops fiddling with his pocket and turns on his heel, exits the restaurant and walks home as quickly as he can. He’s _positive_ he’ll run into Noiz on the way but he gets inside and locks the door without any hint of the teen and he runs a cold bath for himself. He has an hour before his next appointment. He’ll take a bath, call Mizuki and tell him he’s feeling better, and spend the rest of the day cutting hair and flirting. Maybe he’ll stay in tonight; his place could use some cleaning and he obviously needs some time to calm down.

            He runs his second bath of the day, much, _much_ colder than the first and he steps in, bites back at the frigid temperature, but submerges himself nonetheless. He curls up into a ball, pulls his long legs up and clutches his shins, resting his cheek on his knees. He takes a few deep breaths and that helps to finally calm him but after a few minutes of watching the water ripple under him, he can’t keep his mind emptied anymore.

            He almost wants to cry. He can’t figure out why Noiz is affecting him so much or what he did to deserve this on top of the agony he still feels for Aoba every day, waning though it may be. Maybe it’s because he won’t give in to it. He’s already accepted that he loves Aoba and can’t have Aoba and it’s helped – he _is_ getting over it. But is he replacing it with Noiz?

            It occurs to him that Noiz is simply a morbid sort of rebound. He so desperately forbids himself to think about certain things – things locked away in rooms – so his brain has to make up for it somehow, he supposes. Maybe that’s why it’s trying to fixate on something, and now that he has to push Aoba out, Noiz is creeping in.

            But why _Noiz_?

            Koujaku groans and sticks his face between his knees. He supposes he’s grateful it’s not Mizuki, at least. That would be a terrible friendship to compromise, and at least with Noiz he doesn’t have to worry about ruining a relationship.

            Suddenly, that idea clicks with him: he’s been through this with Aoba and it’s threatened the friendship, so Noiz is an easy target. Someone he doesn’t care about. Someone he’ll never care about. It makes an exasperating amount of sense, really, and he can’t believe he didn’t already come to this conclusion. He chuckles to himself. The human brain is capable of the craziest things, and just when he’s about to leave it alone, he realizes –

            None of that explains the sex.

            Nothing about that rationalization justifies why he imagines Noiz’s face during orgasm, or his body bent over a table, or his stomach pulled tight while he’s getting fucked, or how warm he’d be right now in this tub. And Koujaku still hates himself for thinking about someone else like that without his knowing, even a shithead like Noiz. There must be some reason why the image of Noiz on his knees is so appealing to Koujaku, there has to be some _completely normal explanation._ He just can’t come up with it right now.

            His mind is racing now and the best thing for him to do would be to stop trying to think about it. He manages to lift himself from the water and crawl out, dries off, wishes he had a warm body to hug, and get re-dressed. He sits on his couch and stares at the wall thinking about Aoba’s fleshy hips and Noiz’s sultry voice and Mizuki getting on an airplane and disappearing for God knows how long until there’s a knock on his door and he has to push it all away and go back to cutting hair as if everything is normal. As if this was just another day. As if nothing’s different.

            After his last appointment, he calls Mizuki on his coil. Mizuki nods reassuringly when Koujaku says he needs a night in, and he tells him to get some rest.

            “You sure you don’t want me to bring you anything?”

            “I’m sure.”

            “You know,” Mizuki says, “you went through a lot of trouble to take care of me when I got out of the hospital.”

            He’s doing his best to tell Koujaku he owes him without pressuring him into accepting. Koujaku smiles.

            “I don’t need anything, but you will be the first person I call if I do.”

            “Are you absolutely sure?”

            “Just be here tomorrow morning with the coffee,” Koujaku says finally. Mizuki grins.

            “Yeah, okay. I’ll see you then.”

            Koujaku spends the rest of the night working himself to exhaustion. He turns on the television in the background and resolves to focus on it when he’s not focused on cleaning or cooking. He goes to great lengths to make sure his entire place is absolutely spotless; he even starts to make lunches for the next few days, for no reason other than to occupy his time. But he can’t seem to tire himself out.

            It’s almost nine by the time he runs out of things to do. He’s swept, vacuumed, wiped down every surface and even scrubbed his bathroom. When he sits down on his couch and looks up at the television, he realizes he doesn’t really watch anything anymore, and he can’t find a single thing to watch to distract himself with. He’s tired, but he can’t sleep. His body is exhausted but his mind is racing, and he’s trying desperately to stop it.

            A lot of it is Noiz, but some of it is Aoba. Some of it is the thought of Mizuki leaving. Some of it is trying to decide if he’s bisexual, and some of it is trying to decide if he cares. All of it is troubling, he knows that for certain, and he puts his head in his hands to massage his temples. He feels like his brain might catch on fire if he doesn’t find a way to calm down and fall asleep sometime soon. He eyes the bar cart in the corner of his living room, full of vodka and sake and beer, but he promised himself not to fuel his sleep with alcohol tonight. It’s not usually a problem and he wouldn’t consider himself an alcoholic, but it sure has helped him a lot these past few months and he feels he’s getting dangerously close to using it as a crutch.

            Then, just as he’s about to reach for a beer, he hears a knock on his door. His immediate reaction is that it’s Mizuki, and he’s come over with hot soup or decaf and he’s going to insist that Koujaku be in bed. He’ll have to admit that he’s not sick, but Mizuki won’t be that upset, he’s sure. He gets up and heads to his front door.

            Mizuki knocks again, quicker than usual, and Koujaku slows his pace a bit as he’s thrown off. That’s not how Mizuki knocks. He peers out the frosted glass of his door window and he can tell it’s not Mizuki out there. It’s not Aoba either. It’s not even Ren, and the next possibility that comes to mind makes his stomach feel like it falls out of his feet. His ears immediately start to burn and he feels a sudden sweat break out around his scalp and he considers pretending he’s not home, but it’s already too late.

            “I see you,” comes the languid cadence of Noiz’s voice. “Open up. I have something for you.”

            It’s like Noiz’s voice triggers a switch in Koujaku’s head. The minute he hears that arrogant drawl, he reaches for the door handle and swings the door open in a quiet temper and glares at Noiz. All his anxiety goes out the window and it’s converted to pure loathing.

            “What are you doing here?” he spits.

            “I heard you were sick,” Noiz grins as if he’s just told a joke that Koujaku doesn’t understand.

            “From who, Mizuki?”

            “Yeah.”

            “When?”

            “Just an hour ago. I went by Black Needle and you weren’t there.”

            “So you asked where I was?”

            “Sure,” Noiz shrugs. “Anyway, I brought you soup.”

            “S-soup?” Koujaku wasn’t expecting that.

            Noiz takes the bag from under his arm and waves it at Koujaku. He’s still grinning and Koujaku wants to punch him.

            “It’s a food item,” he says. “Usually made of a liquid broth and chunks of food. It – ”

            “Shut up,” Koujaku says, snatching the bag from him. “Why did you bring me soup?”

            “Don’t you eat soup when you’re sick?”

            “Yes,” Koujaku says flatly. “What I’m asking is why did _you_ bring _me_ soup?”

            Noiz’s grin actually falters a bit and he looks away. It’s like he’s trying to come up with an answer. He sighs and shrugs his shoulders.

            “What can I say? I’m just that kind of guy.”

            “What, a moron?”

            “Thoughtful,” Noiz smiles again, looking back at Koujaku. “I’m _so_ thoughtful.”

            Koujaku narrows his eyes at him. Two minutes ago, if he had thought about Noiz showing up on his doorstep, he’d be certain he’d have had a panic attack, but now that it’s happened, all he can feel is the same irritation he always feels toward Noiz. He’s angry with himself, really, for being so indecisive and that’s when it all boils over. But the massive breakdown that he’s expecting doesn’t come. Instead, it translates to a sickly sweet smile on his face and the invitation:

            “Fine. Come in.”

            Noiz shoulders his way in quickly and doesn’t give Koujaku a second to reconsider. Koujaku shuts the door, pointing down the long entry hallway to his living room.

            “Did you bring enough for both of us, or – ”

            “Yeah,” Noiz nods. He doesn’t follow Koujaku’s finger; instead he waits for Koujaku to move first. Koujaku shakes his head lightly and heads to his kitchen, pointing at the living room on the way there.

            “In there. Hold on. I’ll put this in bowls.”

            He doesn’t think much as he divides the soup into two separate bowls and grabs spoons; he doesn’t have the capacity to, really. Noiz is in his living room. Noiz brought him food. Noiz is still Noiz, but there’s no denying that he wouldn’t have come here with soup if he weren’t trying a _little._ Koujaku laughs softly. Noiz is trying.

            “Here,” he says, walking into the living room and putting a bowl in front of Noiz. He’s sitting in the middle of the couch so Koujaku takes a seat on the chair to the right. “What is this?”

            “It’s barley soup,” Noiz says, taking the spoon from him. “With sausage. There’s protein – it’s good for when you’re sick.”

            “Oh,” Koujaku nods. “It looks disgusting.”

            Noiz laughs, that loud and airy laugh that he lets out when he’s letting his guard down and something about it makes Koujaku smile.

            “It’s good,” he insists.

            “Are you poisoning me?”

            “You figured me out,” Noiz nods, lifting a spoonful of the sip to his lips and slurping it up obnoxiously. “Try it.”

            Koujaku’s eyes are so stuck on Noiz’s lips and how they kiss the spoon as he gulps it down that he almost doesn’t tear them away in enough time. Noiz doesn’t notice, however, and Koujaku stamps his foot as he did earlier.

            “You okay?” Noiz asks. He’s not asking to be kind. He’s making fun of him. Koujaku doesn’t answer; instead he simply lifts the spoon to his mouth and swallows a mouthful.

            “It’s – ” He tries to think of a word. It’s not bad, but he can’t think of much other than how hot it was.

            “Salty,” Noiz finishes for him. “It’s really salty, but it’s good. Eat the sausage.”

            Koujaku rolls his eyes but fishes out a bit of sausage anyway and plops it in his mouth.

            “Shit,” he says as he chews. “That’s really good.”

            Noiz doesn’t answer. He looks Koujaku in the eyes and smiles slightly, as if he’s trying to stop himself from doing so.

            “Glad you like it,” Noiz says. “But you don’t look very sick.”

            Koujaku looks at him, alarmed almost, though he’s not sure why.

            “I’m – not really,” he admits. “Mizuki overreacted. I’m just tired, you know. Wanted a night in.”

            “Oh,” Noiz nods. He looks away for a second and then rolls his head back and says, “Another night alone with your hand?”

            Koujaku scowls.

            “Whatever.”

            “If you want me to go, I will,” Noiz smirks. “I didn’t realize you had a night planned for yourself.”

            “There are a lot of reasons why I’d like you to leave,” Koujaku says, “but it’s not because I have to resort to myself to get off, like some _children_ I know.”

            “You think I can’t get sex?” Noiz asks, eyebrows raised.

            Koujaku really doesn’t want to have this conversation.

            “Who would want to have sex with you?” he asks. The irony isn’t lost on him.

            “Hm,” Noiz hums. “A lot of people. Believe me.”

            He has a sort of sad arrogance in his voice, as if he knows something that Koujaku doesn’t, and Koujaku frowns; he hates to imagine a nineteen-year-old like Noiz getting taken advantage of, but something tells him Noiz is consenting to whatever fucked up sex he’s having.

            “Look, this was really nice,” Koujaku says, “that you brought this weird soup or whatever – ”

            “Barley.”

            “Y-yeah. So don’t ruin it by being a brat.”

            “I’m being a brat?”

            “You’re talking about masturbation while we’re eating.”

            Noiz sits back on the couch and looks across the room, as if he’s considering something.

            “True,” he mutters. He stands and takes a few steps further into the living room and starts to look around, scanning the room. “So, this is a nice place.”

            Koujaku takes a second to adjust to the sudden change of subject.

            “Uh, yeah. How did you know where I lived?”

            “Mizuki told me.” Koujaku makes a mental note to scold Mizuki for that later. “I don’t live that far from here.”

            “Really?”

            “Yeah,” he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets again and then looking Koujaku in the eyes. “Show me around.”

            “It’s not that big,” he says. “It’s just the living room, the kitchen and dining room, a bathroom and my bedroom.”

            “Show me the bedroom.”

            Koujaku narrows his eyes at Noiz.

            “No.”

            “Why not?”

            “Because you can just make whatever perverted joke you’re going to make out here.”

            “I’m not going to make a joke,” Noiz grins. “I just want to see your place.”

            Koujaku stands up with a sigh and assumes the soup is going to go forgotten. He figures if he stays out here arguing, he’ll only end up frustrated and annoyed and possibly saying something in his fragile mental state that he’ll come to regret. At least if he takes Noiz to the bedroom he can shut him up.

            “Fine,” he says. “Fine. Come on.”

            He leads the teenager out of the living room and down the hallway, back towards the front, and stops outside his bedroom door.

            “Okay,” he says before opening it, “don’t forget, I cut hair in here. _Don’t_ mess with anything. I make a living by doing – ”

            “Shut up,” Noiz scowls, gripping the door handle himself and letting himself in. He swings the door open forcefully and Koujaku reaches out to stop him, only to land his hand on top of Noiz’s. He grabs the doorknob before he realizes he’s on the backside of Noiz’s palm instead, and ends up holding his hand.

            “Don’t – ”

            “Aw,” Noiz coos, pulling his hand away. “That’s sweet. Couldn’t wait to get me alone in your bedroom?”

            “You’re the one who wanted to see it!” Koujaku shouts, following him in. “I didn’t mean to hold your hand, it – ”

            “Shit,” Noiz interrupts, his eyes taking in Koujaku’s room. He seems – impressed? Dumbfounded? Like he’s about to turn to Koujaku with a sarcastic grin and actually insult it?

            “What?”

            Noiz shrugs.

            “It’s – ”

            Koujaku braces for an insult.

            “—Really nice. Shit.”

            Koujaku tilts his head up and watches Noiz’s eyes skim the room. He’s really looking, really appreciating the room. Something tugs at the edges of Koujaku’s lips and the curl into a sort of sad smile. Noiz can be really tolerable when he’s being genuine.

            “So,” Noiz says, taking a step toward his bed. “That’s where the magic happens?”

            Koujaku grins, not in a perverted alliance with Noiz’s words but in honest amusement. It suddenly strikes him that he’s hearing Noiz’s _voice_ more since Platinum Jail, but Mizuki has said he barely speaks when he comes to Black Needle to sit at his bar. He’s talking to Koujaku. He’s not talking to other people. He’s sort of touched.

            “Yeah,” Koujaku nods. “The magic.”

            Noiz glances at him sideways. “Yeah? Ever have Aoba on this bed?”

            The grin is gone and Koujaku doesn’t even mean to ball his hands into fists but there they are – tight and hard to control at his sides. He’s not as touched anymore. He feels a heat under his hair, in his jaw, behind his ears; he doesn’t have time to consider how to react. He can only shout.

            “What – the – _fuck?”_

“Whoa,” Noiz laughs, “calm down. It was just a joke.”

            “How is that a _joke_?” Koujaku screams. “How the _fuck_ is that a joke? How many times do I have to tell you to _stop talking about me and Aoba_?”

            Noiz says something else but Koujaku doesn’t know what. It all boils over: the catcalls, the insults, the taunts, the sarcastic flirting, the flippant remarks about Aoba. Koujaku has had it with the confusion, the agony, the turmoil, everything that Noiz stirs up in him. Noiz refuses to leave his friends alone, Noiz refuses to leave _him_ alone, and Noiz refuses to leave his imagination alone and Koujaku is sick of it.

He has him against his bedroom wall, fingers clasped around the collar of his stupid shirt and Koujaku hates everything about him again. How his skin looks like it feels like a woman’s, how fucking bright and harsh his eyes are, what do those buttons even mean, his fucking knit hat looks so God damn stupid – Koujaku grabs the top of it and rips it off, pulling a few strands of hair with it. Noiz doesn’t react. He throws it to the ground and pushes Noiz against the wall harder.

            “You come to my fucking house, you trick me with soup?!” Koujaku can hear himself and he’s not making any sense. He doesn’t care. “Barley soup! What – and then you come in here and you – ”

            Noiz regards him with tired eyes, as if he’s uninterested in anything Koujaku has to say. Then he grabs either side of Koujaku’s face and pushes their lips together, immediately groping the inside of Koujaku’s mouth with his tongue. It only takes Koujaku a second to register what he’s doing and pull away – but Noiz has a good grip on him and he manages to wrestle him for a few seconds before Koujaku can get his mouth off.

            He doesn’t have time to realize that this is what he’s wanted; this is something he’s been fantasizing about for a long time now. This is, apparently, what he’s been wanting: Noiz’s lips on his, their fingers grappling with one another, to know what Noiz looks like under all those bizarre clothes. But at the moment, he can only be horrified. He doesn’t realize that this is what he’s been dreaming of, this is what he’s wanted but doesn’t know how to get – and now it’s being handed right to him on a silver platter.

            Instead, all he can do is snort, “What – the – _fuck_ ,” like a bull, torn between throwing Noiz on the ground and decking him and running out of his own room and leaving him behind. He wants to beat the shit out of him, but even touching him feels dangerous at this point.

            “You did realize this was where this was going,” Noiz says, his eyes heavy lidded, as if he’s trying to be seductive. Koujaku’s mouth hangs open. Of course he didn’t realize that; he wouldn’t have been so tortured if he had.

            “What – what are you saying?”

            “I thought it was obvious.”

            “What was obvious?”

            “That this was going to happen.”

            “That – _what –_ was going to happen?”

            Noiz furrows his brows.

            “ _This.”_

 _“_ What – sex?!” The words are coming out of his mouth quicker than he can filter them through his brain.

            “Sure, if you want to move that fast.”

            Koujaku shakes his head and waves his arms in front of him violently, hoping that if he moves his body fast enough, the entire conversation will disappear. He can only think of one thing to say:

            “No – no. No! I’m not gay.”

            Noiz sighs suddenly, rolls his eyes, and reaches out to grab Koujaku by the shoulder of his kimono. He’s a lot smaller, but Koujaku is so taken off guard that Noiz manages to switch their positions. Noiz puts his forearm against Koujaku’s chest as he backs him against the wall and before Koujaku can escape, he shifts his knee between his legs. Koujaku winces.

            “I know. You aren’t. Gay.” Noiz punctuates his words as he drawls angrily. “You dumb. Fucking. Man. You. Are. Bisexual.”

            “Get off me,” Koujaku growls, his voice low. He doesn’t want to get into this now, and he definitely doesn’t want to get into this with Noiz. “I’m not anything. And if I was, I wouldn’t want to have sex with _you_.”

            “Oh?”

            Noiz smirks, shifts his arm, and suddenly he’s grabbing Koujaku’s dick through his jeans and Koujaku can’t suppress the gasp.

            “If you don’t want to have sex with me,” Noiz mutters, “then don’t get hard.”

            Koujaku is frozen, terrified that Noiz’s knee might hit him in the wrong place, or that his hand might brush him in an unexpected way and he might actually get hard. He’s also terrified that this is actually happening at all. He’s terrified that he might not mind it so much if he gets hard. He’s terrified that he might let it happen.

            “Get off me,” he growls. It’s all he think to say.

            “I’ll get off you,” Noiz says, his voice low and dangerous. “I’ll get you off first, too, if you want.”

            Koujaku starts to breathe heavily; he can feel the air escape his nose as Noiz’s fingers grip around his dick, feeling around for leverage. He glares at Noiz – he’s angry, to be sure, but not necessarily for the reason he thought he’d be. He’s angry because he wants to know what Noiz’s hair feels like between his fingers. He’s angry because he wonders if Noiz’s skin is as soft as the girl’s from this morning. He’s angry because he’s imagined Noiz’s face during orgasm before and now Noiz is presenting him with the opportunity to find out if he’s been imagining it right, but Koujaku is still grappling with whether or not he should take him up on that dare.

            It’s morbid curiosity, and that’s it. No, he’s never had sex with a guy but that’s not to say he hasn’t had anal sex before. He’s sure it’s the same – preparation, safety, lots of asking that the other isn’t hurting – still, there’s so much to consider in such a short amount of time. But the idea of sliding his fingers inside Noiz and pulling that moan out of him that Koujaku desperately wants to hear is quickly winning him over.

            He closes his eyes at the thoughts and his body decides for him. Noiz grins happily, as if he’s accomplished something great. He hasn’t. This has been a long time coming.

            “So,” Noiz breathes, pulling his hand up to the button of Koujaku’s jeans and beginning to undo them, “seems like you’re into the idea.”

            Koujaku’s not an idiot. He laughs.

            “It’s just a physical reaction.”

            Noiz tilts his head up and smiles. He’s incredibly amused.

            “If you wanted an invitation, this is it, grandpa.”

            With those words, Koujaku has made his decision.

            He lifts his hand up, lightly grabs a few thick strands of Noiz’s hair and rubs it between his fingertips. It’s soft, like a rabbit’s, predictably the only animal he can think of when he’s around Noiz. He goes deeper, the pads of his fingers scraping against Noiz’s scalp as he pulls on his hair. It’s so soft. He tugs on it slightly. Noiz doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t even wince.

            He wants to feel Noiz’s hair more. He grabs his shoulders, shifts onto his toes awkwardly to steer his dick away from Noiz’s knee, and starts to push him backwards. Noiz doesn’t react much until he’s on his ass on the bed, when he looks up with that smirk that Koujaku was just imagining only a few short hours ago, and now it’s here, on his bed, just like he dreamt. Maybe it was a premonition.

            Koujaku unties his kimono and shrugs it off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, then straddles Noiz on the bed.

            “This is gonna be the best fuck you’ve ever had,” he breathes, his lips against Noiz’s forehead as he pulls on his tie, and yanks it out from under his collar.

            “I’m not the one who needs convincing,” Noiz says, grabbing at the top of Koujaku’s jeans again. Koujaku sits back to smack his hand away.

            “Not yet.”

            Koujaku is in this now and he’s not turning back. He rips Noiz’s tie off of him, accidentally pulling the button that was attached to his safety pins with it. He rolls his eyes at Noiz’s ridiculous attire once more and starts to unbutton his shirt from the bottom. Noiz starts at the top and their hands meet in the middle. Koujaku tears the shirt off of him and grabs the hem of his undershirt to remove it too.

            “Is this – what the hell is this made out of?”

            “That’s what you’re focused on?”

            Koujaku scowls and forces Noiz’s arms up as he takes the shirt off; it’s slick and shiny like something someone would wear in the winter, but it’s not nearly cold enough right now for it. Whatever. He should know better than to try to make sense of anything Noiz does.

            As he’s throwing the shirt to the floor, he realizes he’d thought he’d be a lot more nervous about this. He thought if this ever happened, it would be a terrifying experience, but it actually feels comfortable. He’s far more focused on the fact that he’s finally fucking _Noiz_ than he is the fact that Noiz is a man.

            That’s right, he’s fucking Noiz.

            He stops the silent soliloquy in his head and leans Noiz back on the bed slowly and grins wide as he towers over him; he tries to look sweet and romantic, if sarcastically so, but he can’t help the sadistic tone that creeps into his voice.

            “Do you want me to fuck you?”

            Noiz laughs, blinks slowly and tilts his head slightly and doesn’t respond. It’s as though Noiz has been planning this for months and Koujaku’s only just understood.

            “Just tell me you want me to fuck you and I will,” Koujaku goads him with a grin.

            “I want you to fuck me.”

            Oh. Koujaku shivers. He wasn’t expecting Noiz to say it so readily. He was expecting a fight or some sort of immature taunt.

            “Say it again,” he demands. He doesn’t mean to. He just wants to hear it again.

            “I want you to fuck me,” Noiz breathes, his fingers finding Koujaku’s jeans again and starting to unbutton them. Koujaku lets him this time and they hold each other’s gaze as Noiz manages to awkwardly undo his fly and then push wantonly at the hem.

            “Stop,” Koujaku instructs, leaning back and reaching for Noiz’s Allmate cubes. He starts to unhook them when Noiz grabs his hand.

            “Don’t,” he mutters, throwing Koujaku’s hands away and unbuckling his belt himself. He takes his pants off, shoves them off the side of the bed and lays back in just his boxers, hand cuffs, and the tightest pair of thigh highs Koujaku’s ever seen. He squints; they’re so silly and – feminine, he supposes is the word he wants to use. He puts his lips to the side of Noiz’s face and drags them upward as he gropes the hem of the socks.

            “These are ridiculous,” he murmurs in Noiz’s ear, slipping a finger under the elastic and pushing them down. Noiz huffs in amusement and takes the hint, bending at his hips and knees to pull the socks down. He balls them up and throws them across the room as Koujaku moves his finger to his boxers and runs a finger along the inside of them. He expects some sort of protest but he doesn’t get any, so he sits up to drag them down Noiz’s legs. After they’re forgotten on the floor, Koujaku straddles Noiz against and takes a deep breath before he finally looks down at his cock.

            “What the fuck?” he laughs. He didn’t mean to, but he was genuinely shocked by the glare of silver metal in Noiz’s dick. He runs his fingers along the piercings; they’re kind of cool to the touch even though Noiz’s skin is entirely warm. He notices he isn’t hard yet, but he doesn’t have a chance to say anything before Noiz smiles.

            “Like it?”

            “I’m not surprised,” Koujaku shakes his head and reaches to the bedside table. He opens the drawer and grabs the lube but Noiz grunts.

            “No lube.”

            “What?”

            “I don’t need lube.”

            “Don’t be a fucking idiot.”

            Noiz digs his fingernails into Koujaku’s hips and Koujaku yelps.

            “I don’t need lube,” he repeats. Koujaku furrows his brow.

            “What the fuck are you talking about?”

            “Just fuck me dry.”

            “Gross, no,” Koujaku says, grabbing Noiz’s cheeks and pursing his lips out in an effort to simply annoy him into submission. “I’m not fucking you dry, that’ll hurt _too_ much.”

            “I know,” Noiz mumbles through puckered lips.

            Oh. Koujaku understands now.

            “You’re a masochist?”

            “I wish,” Noiz grunts, pulling his face from Koujaku’s grip and sitting up. He pushes Koujaku off and then grabs him by the back of the neck and forces him into a cruel kiss, it’s harsh and brutal and knocks all the wind out of Koujaku. He’s challenging him, and like Hell Koujaku isn’t going to respond.

            He steadies himself on Noiz’s lap again and pulls his lips off, staring him in the eyes, trying to gauge what it is that Noiz wants.

            “If you want me to fuck you hard, I’ll fuck you hard,” he tells him. “I’ll fuck you harder than you’ve ever been fucked before. But I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

            “You’ll send me to the hospital but you won’t fuck me dry?”

            Koujaku growls, pushes him down again and locks his lips around Noiz’s neck, sucking his tender flesh up into his mouth and biting down as hard as he can. Noiz grips the back of his head and pushes it down even further, arches up into his teeth, and finally starts to moan softly.

            “Harder,” he groans, and Koujaku obliges. If Noiz wants to show off, Koujaku will make him regret it.

            He digs his fingernails into Noiz’s sides, just like Noiz had done to him, and then he feels a twitch against his thigh as he realizes Noiz’s cock is finally responding. He thinks about touching it for a couple seconds but then realizes he’s never touched another guy’s dick before. He stills his hand for a bit, focusing instead on the hickey for another few seconds.

            Then he feels his dick move again and he’s sick of his own cowardice, so he reaches down to grab it and here it is, the first time he’s ever touched a dick that wasn’t his own. It takes him a couple seconds to wrap his fingers around it so that he can stroke it. It’s foreign, jerking someone else off, but he kind of likes it. He pumps him a couple times and then releases his skin from his teeth and looks him in the eyes.

            “You like that?” He’s asking more for himself than Noiz; his own heart is beating pretty hard now and he’s not entirely sure if he’s doing this right.

            “Harder,” Noiz says again.

            “Harder what?”

            Noiz reaches down and clasps his hand around Koujaku’s and squeezes.

            “ _Harder_.”

            Koujaku frowns.

            “I don’t – ”

            “Bite me,” Noiz says, pushing Koujaku’s head down against his neck again. Koujaku finds an unmarked bit of skin and bites it, sucks it up and starts to leave another hickey. He feels like he’s a teenager again. He hasn’t done this in years. Then he remembers Noiz is nineteen.

            Suddenly, he feels Noiz’s fingers line up with his and press down against his nails, digging them into his dick and he pulls his head up. Does Noiz know what he’s doing? Is Noiz pushing Koujaku’s fingernails into his fucking dick on purpose? Koujaku tries to pull his hand up as well, but Noiz doesn’t let him.

            “What the fuck are you doing?” he mutters as Noiz digs his nails down even harder. Koujaku scrapes against his shaft as he pulls his hand up and at first he’s terrified, positive that the pain would be insufferable, but Noiz shudders beneath him and closes his eyes.

            “Do it again,” he breathes.

            “ _What?”_

 _“_ Do that again, _fuck_ ,” Noiz says, opening his eyes, annoyed. He grabs Koujaku’s hand and wraps it around his dick again and forces his nails into it, drags it down and Koujaku’s fingertips pull at the piercings, and he’s fucking petrified. This was not how he had imagined his first time with a guy.

            “Doesn’t that _hurt_?”

            “Are you too scared to touch another guy’s dick? Wanna bite it, too? You can if you want,” Noiz rambles, clenching his nails against his dick even tighter. He’s forcing him into causing him immeasurable pain and now he’s going to tease him about it? Koujaku sneers at him.

            “You’re a _freak_ ,” he spits, the tip of his nose touching Noiz’s, and Noiz angles his head up to kiss him gently.

            “I know.”

            Koujaku digs a nail in right under the head of Noiz’s cock and he arches into it, gives the loudest moan Koujaku’s heard from him yet and he wonders if he’s trying to keep his voice down. That’s not going to happen. If Noiz wants to fuck with Koujaku, he’s going to make him scream.

            They’re a mess of teeth and nails and suppressed whimpers; Koujaku biting Noiz everywhere he can and Noiz pressing into it greedily, all but begging for him to keep doing what he’s doing only harder, and every time Noiz lets a whine slip, Koujaku is encouraged to pull more from him. He wants to hear him cry. He’s never felt that way during sex before. He feels almost sadistic.

            It’s rough and messy and Koujaku is worried he might draw blood if he bites much harder or digs much deeper, but Noiz seems unconcerned. Koujaku finally sits back to try to catch his breath and he gazes over Noiz’s body. He’s so pale that the scrapes and bruises blossom into purples and red that contrast with his skin so starkly. Koujaku has to admit he looks good, naked, on his back, his legs open and waiting. Then he laughs.

            “Out of breath, old man?”

            “Yeah,” he smirks, “you’re supposed to be during sex. You probably didn’t know that. God, am I taking your virginity?”

            Noiz rolls his eyes.

            “I’m not sure I’m into that,” Koujaku continues. “I realize I’m giving you a lot more attention than most people, but I don’t want to be responsible for defiling you.”

            “Shut up.”

            Koujaku raises his eyebrows. A challenge.

            “Oh, did that – strike a nerve?”

            He repeats Noiz’s own words back to him; though he’s not sure Noiz would ever remember saying that to him all those months ago. Noiz snorts, his eyes dart away, and he seems genuinely troubled. He really did strike a nerve.

            “Hey,” he says, turning his head back and nodding at Koujaku. “Fuck me.”

            Koujaku reaches for the lube and uncaps the bottle. He doesn’t care what Noiz says; he’s not going to fuck him without lube.

            “Hey – ”

            “I’m not going to fuck you dry,” Koujaku interrupts. He tucks his legs underneath him and sits on his ankles, pulling Noiz’s thighs to rest on his own. He coats his fingers and positions one at Noiz’s entrance.

            “I wasn’t gonna say that.”

            “What were you gonna say?”

            “Fuck me.”

            Koujaku slips the tip of his finger in carefully and stares Noiz down.

            “I’m going to.”

            “Fuck me.”

            “I said I’m going to.”

            “ _Fuck me.”_

_“I’m going to.”_

            He shoves his entire finger inside him. Noiz finally reacts. His voice gets caught in his throat and he grunts, his eyes flying open, and his entire body recoiling. Koujaku immediately regrets it and tries to pull his finger out, but Noiz shakes his head violently.

            “No, no, no, keep going.”

            Koujaku coats his next two fingers and waits a few minutes for Noiz to adjust before he slides the second one in. Noiz nods and he rolls them around a few times before splitting them apart and scissoring him open. He’s so warm inside and Koujaku knows that’s lewd but something about it really makes his heart race. Noiz hisses and reels his head back and pumps his hips up into him; he’s adjusting but he seems to be enjoying it. Koujaku puts a third in and rubs his fingertips around and he’s so close to getting Noiz to beg him.

            “What do you want me to do?” he asks. He’ll push him into it. Noiz groans and pauses before he answers.

            “Fuck me.”

            “How?”

            “Hard.”

            “Say it all.”

            “I want you to fuck me hard.”

            “Say it like you mean it,” Koujaku murmurs, “or I won’t do it.”

            “Koujaku.”

            He stills. It’s the first time Noiz has said his name in a long while. Is it the first time he’s ever said it? It’s so breathy and frantic yet still angry and distant.

            “Say it,” Koujaku exhales, and all is lost to him. “Like you mean it.”

            “Fuck me.” Noiz almost spits it out, not angrily but desperately. Just as Koujaku is about to do as he’s told, Noiz opens his mouth again. “Like you would fuck Aoba.”

            His vision goes black for a moment. His heart starts thumping, his finger stills and he feels his nostrils flaring, his brow furrowing, his eyes narrowing; his breaths begin to stutter, he can hear himself and he sounds like a sputtering car engine, only he’s not trying to give life, he’s trying to hold himself back. He’s trying so hard; he knows this is _the_ worst place to get angry but he can’t stop himself.

            He takes his fingers out and grabs Noiz by the waist, pulling him up and onto his lap before flipping him over and pinning him to the mattress. He reaches over to the bedside table again and fishes out a condom, ripping it open with his teeth and sliding it on as quickly as he can. He probably wouldn’t bother, but he doesn’t know how dirty Noiz might be and he’d rather be careful.

He moved so fast that Noiz hardly had time to react, save for a surprised gasp as Koujaku smothers him with his body and a hurried squeak when Koujaku grabs his hips again and pulls him up onto his hands and knees. He expects Noiz to say something sarcastic or resist, maybe pull away and refuse to be fucked doggy style, but instead he leans down onto his elbows, sticking his ass up further in the air and spreads his legs a little wider.

            Koujaku has never seen anything like this. He’s only seen women from this position and he’s always felt a lot more grateful toward them when they let themselves be this vulnerable around him; seeing Noiz like this is confusing. He’s turned on – in fact, his dick twitches again when he realizes how open and ready Noiz is – but he’s angry, he’s so _fucking angry_ , and he wonders what this means. For a split second, he thinks Noiz might be right. He might be bisexual.

            But then he remembers what Noiz said and he snarls, sits up on his knees and positions himself behind the boy, grabs the base of his own dick and starts to enter him. It’s wet enough inside but he wishes he had used more lube beforehand but he’s too angry and distracted to worry about it much. He leans forward and slowly lets himself enter Noiz, who he can feel breathe in slowly beneath him and hold it. Koujaku puts his palms on the bed to either side of Noiz’s body and practically falls into him.

            When he reaches the hilt he sucks in a breath and then props himself up on Noiz’s shoulder. He pulls him up by the chin and puts his lips to his ear.

            _“I would never fuck Aoba as hard as I’m about to fuck you.”_

            He hears Noiz laugh – he fucking _laughs –_ and it’s infuriating. He wants Noiz to be terrified. He wants Noiz as terrified as _he_ is angry, but he’s not getting it. He’s had rough, fast sex before, but he’s never fucked someone as hard as he starts slamming into Noiz; it’s brutal and unforgiving and Koujaku’s only pushed into him a few times before he’s breathing heavily and feeling the heat creep up his scalp. He’s already sweating.

            Noiz doesn’t make a single sound for the first minute or so. Koujaku digs his nails into his shoulders, scrapes them down his back and watches the pink tracks trail down his alabaster skin and fuck does that look good. Koujaku lets go in that moment and admits that he likes seeing the proof of his destruction. The index of his wrath is on Noiz’s body, everywhere, in purple bruises blooming into fruition on his sides and in fingernail marks that darken with every passing second.

            Suddenly Noiz says something, under his breath, raspy almost, and Koujaku enjoys the sound of his voice but can’t make out what he’s saying.

            “What was that?”

            “I said, ‘ _fuck me_ ,’” Noiz says louder. Koujaku scoffs.

            “This not hard enough?”

            “No. Shit, you’re so fucking old. You can’t even fuck hard enough.”

            Koujaku places both hands on his hips and grips them as hard as he possibly can. He grimaces, stops to reposition himself, and starts to pound into Noiz harder, as hard as he can, given the position.

            “Dig your nails in,” Noiz says. Koujaku sinks his nails into Noiz’s hips. “Fuck. Yeah. Like that.”

            “Is this hard enough for you, asshole?”

            “I guess,” Noiz says, hanging his head so low between his shoulder blades that it practically disappears. He reaches up and puts his hands around the back of his head and scrapes his scalp with his own nails.

            “You’re really into pain,” Koujaku says. He doesn’t mean to really, it just slips out. It’s not a question, either. Just an observation.

            “Shut up and fuck me.”

            Koujaku does, and he recalls every shitty thing Noiz has ever said, every bratty comeback, every immature insult he’s ever thrown at him, and he only thrusts harder and harder with every memory. Every time he called him old, every time he mentioned Aoba, every time he flashed that fucking smirk and every time he threw a punch or a kick or a nasty head-butt. It suddenly dawns on him that he’s finally getting the best of him, he’s finally on top – the pun makes him laugh darkly and then he feels Noiz shift under him. He watches the younger boy reach down and grab his dick, and he can feel that he’s jerking himself off. Right, that’s probably something he would have done for him if he had cared enough, he assures himself.

            “Am I gonna make you fucking come?” Koujaku asks him, surprised that his own voice is ragged and tired.

            “Don’t flatter yourself.”

            “Do you want me to stop?”

            Noiz grunts and Koujaku drapes himself over him, grabs his chin again and forces his head up.

            “I said, do you want me to stop?”

            “Shut – up,” Noiz groans. Koujaku smiles.

            “Answer me or I’ll stop.”

            “Just fuck me, you piece of shit.”

            “You have to keep telling me,” Koujaku purrs. “Keep telling me what you want.”

            “I want you to keep fucking me, dumbass.”

            “Beg me.”

            He lets go of his chin and grips him by the waist again. He doesn’t really care if Noiz begs or not, he’s resigned to fucking him until he comes now, and he thrusts for a few more minutes before he starts to feel the familiar tingling in his thighs. He’s close, and for the first time ever, he’s not worried about coming first.

            “Fuck,” he stutters, shifting one foot and propping himself up. He pumps a few more times, feels it building up inside him and then he releases inside the condom, pulling Noiz backwards by his hips and burying himself inside, suddenly aware of just how tight and warm Noiz is. He dips his forehead between Noiz’s shoulder blades and grunts, twice, and holds his breath and he pushes himself inside a few more times. He always thought this would be a bigger deal, his first orgasm with another man, but all he can focus on right now is the pleasure and how good Noiz feels around him.

            An unbelievable exhaustion washes over him once he comes down and maybe it’s because the weight of the situation crashes on top of him, too. Without his own orgasm to focus on anymore, he suddenly starts to realize exactly what he’s done, and how nothing is going to be the same anymore. He doesn’t want to have a breakdown with Noiz present though, so he choses instead to focus on him. He would love to send Noiz home right now, naked and wanting and begging for more, but he could never give him the opportunity to call him a lousy fuck, so he keeps thrusting.

            “Hey,” Noiz says. “Are you wearing a condom?”

            “What?” Koujaku breathes. “Yes,” he says, lifting his head up and pounding in suddenly, hard, so hard that Noiz gasps. “Of course I’m wearing a condom.”

            “Oh,” Noiz groans. Koujaku can feel him jerking himself off still.

            “Are you close?”

            “Yeah—” Noiz says, and he puts his head in the crook of his elbow as he starts to push back against Koujaku’s dick and he has to admit that that would have sent him over the edge if he hadn’t come already.

            Noiz actually looks nice, he thinks, on his hands and knees, and not in a humiliating way. His skin is marred now, but not too much, not in ways that it can’t heal, and he finally knows for sure – it really is as soft as it looks. It’s smooth and pale and his shoulders stick straight up, not like a woman’s does; they’re harsh and angular and he’s sort of scrawny. He’s not fleshy and curvy, not like the women he’s been with – not even like the glimpses he’s gotten of Aoba over the years – but Koujaku finds he doesn’t mind it. He smells like dampness – maybe that’s because they’re sweating by now – and something minty maybe, Koujaku’s not exactly sure. It’s not necessarily bad. He wonders what he smells like to Noiz.

            He supposes he’s attracted to Noiz, which he realizes is a rich epiphany coming right after – well, right after he’s come. Noiz has a youthfulness to him that Koujaku doesn’t necessarily hate – he has a youthfulness that he _absolutely does hate,_ of course, but he also reminds Koujaku of when he was a teenager, specifically the good times. He’s not sure why.

            Koujaku grunts and tries to gather himself. Noiz is pushing back more and more, growing impatient, and Koujaku keeps thrusting. He’s always liked continuing even after he’s come, and Noiz is much, much tighter than women, and it feels like he’s trying to pull another orgasm from him, though Koujaku knows that’s not going to happen.

            “You’re tight,” he groans. He’s not sure if that’s a compliment, but it sure feels good to him.

            “Yeah?” Noiz asks. “How tight?”

            “What? I don’t know,” Koujaku mutters. “It feels – good.”

            “That why you came so quick?”

            Koujaku growls and he thrusts once, extra hard, and Noiz shoots up, says something that Koujaku swears is another language, and then he’s coming against Koujaku’s bed sheets, humping his own hand and Koujaku’s a little relieved. It took him long enough. Fucking into this condom full of his own cum is getting uncomfortable.

            Noiz’s voice is deep when he comes; low, guttural moans pulled from his throat and it’s almost like his orgasm is being snatched away from him and he doesn’t want to let it go. He pushes back on Koujaku so hard that he starts to raise himself up on his knees and before Koujaku knows it’s they’re parallel with each other and he’s grabbing Noiz by the waist and the chest, supporting him as he rocks into him, rides backwards and down on his dick almost violently as he comes. Koujaku’s lips line up with Noiz’s ears and if this wasn’t shocking the hell out of him right now he’d think of something clever to say. He imagines that if this were a woman he’d just say something sweet and alluring. If Koujaku didn’t know better, he’d say the position was almost romantic.

            For a split second, Koujaku wants more – he wants more of Noiz, but the boy doesn’t waste any time after he’s done. He slides Koujaku out of him and leaves him to the mess of a condom left behind. Koujaku grunts and pulls it off carefully, since there’s already enough semen on his bed sheets and he doesn’t need more. He ties it off and then reaches for a tissue and by the time he’s cleaned himself up, Noiz is standing near the door, his socks and pants already on, and he’s buttoning up his shirt. He looks over at Koujaku as he reclines back on his bed, panting and tired, and ready to go to sleep. Koujaku studies him. He’s spent too, Koujaku can tell by the sheen of sweat on his forehead and his pink cheeks. He scowls at him and then reaches for his tie and loops it around his neck, not bothering to put it on.

            “You missed a button,” Koujaku says.

            “I don’t care,” Noiz mutters. He reaches down and buttons it. Koujaku laughs.

            “You know, I don’t hate you as much right now as I did twenty minutes ago.”

            Noiz smirks and reaches for his boxers, belt, and Allmate loops, piling them up on his shoulder as he finishes dressing. It suddenly occurs to Koujaku that he’s already leaving.

            “Where are you going?”

            Noiz’s eyebrows furrow and he looks up at him as if he’s grown another head. His eyes scan the room as if they’re searching for an answer and Koujaku suddenly realizes what he’s said.

            “Are you serious?” Noiz asks. Koujaku rolls his eyes.

            “Yeah, no, whatever,” he stutters, waving his hand. He slips under his blanket on the side opposite where Noiz came and puts his hands behind his head, propped up on his pillow.

            “If you want me to spend the night, I will,” Noiz coos.

            “Get out of here.”

            “We’re not dating,” Noiz says, his voice suddenly deep and severe. “We’re not – holdings hands or anything.”

            “I know,” Koujaku groans. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

            “Yeah, right,” Noiz says, stuffing his underwear in his pocket and heading for the door. “I got you on my hook. You’ll be back for more.”

            “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

            “See you later.”

            “Hey,” Koujaku calls before Noiz can leave.

            “What?”

            “I think I’m bisexual.”

            Noiz stills his movements abruptly and studies him. A smile grows on his lips slowly, but it’s not the smirk that Koujaku is used to. It’s genuine.

            “Eh,” Noiz cocks his head to the side. “Maybe.”

            He turns to go, but Koujaku has one more question.

            “Hey,” he calls again.

            “What?”

            “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

            Noiz narrows his eyes at him. Koujaku knows he can get pretty brutal when he’s angry and even though he couldn’t care less about Noiz, he’s a little paranoid.

            “The fuck are you asking that for? Do I look hurt?”

            Koujaku shrugs. Noiz never shows any sign of pain and Koujaku feels like that’s well acknowledged by now.

            “How would I know?” he asks. Noiz stares him down for a couple more seconds and then shakes his head and leaves the room.

            Koujaku rolls his eyes and turns to the side. He turns off his light and closes his eyes, but of course, now he can’t sleep. He stares at his wall for hours, not thinking about anything in particular other than exactly what color hair he’d say Noiz has and if the minty smell seemed to be more a deodorant or a toothpaste scent.

            It’s strawberry blond. And definitely toothpaste.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally, they fucked


	6. bittersweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> but my favorite place
> 
> is the warm embrace
> 
> of holding your hair back in a bathroom stall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> koujaku is fucking bi
> 
> **content warning for dubcon involving alcohol**

            Koujaku definitely would have thought he’d be way more preoccupied after the first time he fucked a guy – especially if someone had told him it was going to be Noiz, of all guys – but he’s surprisingly calm and collected when Mizuki shows up with coffee the next morning. He hardly gives Noiz being in his bed not twelve hours ago any thought. And when he does, it’s not a stressful, tortured feeling. It’s more of a fondness. That might bother him if he considered it any longer, but every time he realizes that a small smile is growing on his face as he recalls Noiz’s stupid head bob, his very real smile when he said, “ _Eh… maybe,”_ after Koujaku tentatively came out to him, he brings himself back to reality. Back to Mizuki, staring forlornly – if a little angrily – out his kitchen window.

            “What’s wrong?” he asks. Mizuki looks at him suddenly and stares for a few seconds but then sighs and shrugs.

            “Nothing,” he says. “Are you feeling better?”

            “I’m fine,” Koujaku nods. “I wasn’t really that sick, to be honest. I just… had a moment, I guess.”

            “I understand,” Mizuki says and then pauses, smiles slightly and tilts his head at Koujaku. “So did Noiz find his way over here last night?”

            “No thanks to you,” Koujaku says flatly. “He gave me soup. Then he left.”

            “Soup?”

            “Yeah… it wasn’t bad.”

            Mizuki’s eyes trail down and he keeps his smile to himself as he adjusts in his seat, leaning forward and crossing his legs.

            “Wasn’t trying to poison you, huh?”

            “Not unless it’s a slow-acting poison.”

            “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

            “Me neither,” Koujaku mutters. “I think I just needed a night off.”

            “I did too,” Mizuki replies. “I think I slept for fifteen hours. I’m ready to do something big.”

            Koujaku remembers their previous conversation at lunch and cocks his head to the side.

            “Yeah? Like leave the country?”

            Mizuki heaves a large sigh and blinks slowly, as if he’s annoyed. Koujaku wishes he would just come out and say so one of these days.

            “Not _that_ big,” he says. “You know what I meant.”

            Koujaku feels less frustrated than he thought he would be about Mizuki’s foreboding travel plans, but his friend’s intense apathy does worry him a bit. He’s worried Mizuki might do something irrational in his attempt to do something “big,” so Koujaku tells himself he’s doing it out of a sense of protection for Mizuki when he suggests throwing a big party – at Beni Shigure – the biggest they’ve ever had. Mizuki is reticent at first, but it doesn’t take much to convince him, and Koujaku shrugs off the idea of a guest list.

            “Whoever,” he says. “Just invite everyone.”

            “Everyone?” Mizuki asks slyly, raising his eyebrow as he looks through his Coil.

            “ _Everyone_ ,” he challenges. “In fact, _I’ll_ call Noiz.”

            And that’s how he ends up in the hallway on his Coil, waiting for Noiz to pick up, while Mizuki sits in his kitchen, calling up Dry Juice and working out an alcohol run. It’s not until Noiz’s face pops up that Koujaku really registers what he’s done. Why did he let Mizuki call Aoba and take Noiz for himself? He was trying to defy Mizuki’s knowing little smirk and now instead he’s staring at Noiz’s.

            “Hey, babe,” he says. Koujaku turns on his heel immediately, as if Mizuki could overhear and his face starts to flush. This is about more the reaction he was expecting from himself.

            “Shut up,” he snaps. “We’re having a party tonight. You know I have to invite you. Do you want to come?”

            Noiz stares for a few seconds and his stupid smile turns into a shit-eating grin that Koujaku wants to slap off his face. He’s a little relieved at these familiar emotions – and holy shit. Holy shit, he fucked Noiz last night. He fucked Noiz last night. _He fucked Noiz last night and is calling him right now to invite him to a party and Noiz is grinning at him like an idiot and what the fuck is he doing –_

“So, when you say _party_ ,” Noiz drawls, “you mean like, just you and me, right? Like last night?”

            “No!” Koujaku growls. “I mean like a real party! At Beni Shigure! Come or don’t, I don’t care – ”

            “Okay,” Noiz says abruptly, shrugging one shoulder. He throws himself backwards onto a couch and then leans forward to fiddle with something. “I’ll come.”

            “O – okay,” Koujaku echoes. “Late. Nine. Or ten. Or don’t come at all. Or do come and don’t bother me. I don’t care – ”

            “Calm down,” he laughs, staring Koujaku straight in the eye. “I’m not going to tell anyone.” Koujaku is quiet for a few seconds as he holds Noiz’s gaze and he doesn’t know quite how to respond so he simply fumes. Noiz bites his bottom lip. “Unless you want me to,” he adds, and it looks like he’s about to keep talking, but Koujaku shakes his head quickly and reaches for the end button.

            “Goodbye,” he says as he slams it off and he supposes it was all leading up to this. An inevitable breakdown of massive epiphany and inner turmoil, but then he realizes – he’s _still_ just not that upset. He’s not upset that he enjoyed sex with a man, only a bit perturbed that it was _Noiz_. He had always assumed if he ever slept with a man it would be Aoba and it would make complete sense because Aoba was his one and only exception.

            So what is Noiz?

            He doesn’t let Mizuki know that he’s going for a cold shower and as he disrobes in his bathroom he checks the mirror briefly for marks. He’s almost embarrassed that he left hickeys on Noiz last night, like he was sixteen again, but Noiz really pulls that out of him. He said he wasn’t a masochist so Koujaku can’t imagine why he wanted it so rough and as he steps under the spray it all comes back to him, every bite and kiss and thrust – and he’s still calm.

            He doesn’t want to bury his head in his hands or curl up under his blanket and cry himself to sleep. He doesn’t need to lock it away in its own little room. It doesn’t bother him as much as he thought it would, even after finally allowing the shock to creep in. He had sex with Noiz last night. And Noiz was right.

            “I’m fucking bi,” he says to himself and then he laughs at his own theatrics. Whispering epiphanies to himself. How dramatic.

            The only thing that sends hot shocks of anxiety through his body is thinking about if anyone else ever found out. He couldn’t stand if Mizuki knew – he’d surely chide him for fucking a Rhymer and that would be besides the serious conversation he’d have to have with him about his sexuality – and Aoba finding out was simply out of the question. That would open an entirely different host of problems – is Koujaku gay? Was he always? If Aoba’s first thoughts weren’t, _“He and I have been so intimate, did he want to fuck me all those times we slept together and changed together and touched each other?”_ they would certainly be, _“I’m so glad that Koujaku has found someone to be with and now we can both be with our boyfriends,”_ and Koujaku can’t decide which is worse: Aoba feeling betrayed or Aoba not immediately jumping at the chance to date him. Of course, the first isn’t likely, and he knows it’s selfish and ridiculous to expect Aoba to suddenly want him, he knows that’s not how these kinds of emotions work, but he still can’t help but think about it.

            That’s why he starts drinking early and doesn’t stop all night. Mizuki is keeping up with him, so he’s at least in good, drunk company, as usual. They’re all over the place; inside the Beni Shigure building, the street across the way with some punks who tried to pick a fight, back to Beni Shigure, then sitting in the gutter outside the door, the rest of the party raging on around them. Aoba and Ren are inside. Aoba and Ren are always inside and they’re always together. Koujaku admires it. He knows they’re still getting used to being together and they probably want to spend every minute together. Koujaku’s heard about that before. That there’s a special time at the beginning of an important relationship, where you can’t get enough of each other. He’s never had that. He turns to Mizuki and puts an arm around him.

            “I want – to get – the dog – drunk,” he says and Mizuki practically giggles as he sips on his bottle of beer. “I feel bad. I feel like _‘the dog’_ is a slur or something.”

            “I want to see him drunk, too,” Mizuki shushes him. “Do you think – he would regress?”

            “I don’t fuckin’ know,” Koujaku shrugs apathetically. “I didn’t think that far.”

            “This is – ” Mizuku slurs as he puts his beer down and reaches over and picks Koujaku’s kimono out of a small puddle, “getting dirty.”

            Koujaku snakes his hand around Mizuki’s back while he’s busy trying to save Koujaku’s kimono and steals his beer, tips it up to his own lips and takes a long swig. Mizuki twists to look at him and glares from under his bangs while Koujaku smiles around the neck of the bottle. It’s a short moment, and stealing alcohol is commonplace between the two, so Koujaku wouldn’t think anything of it, but then he hears it:

            “You two are really cute together.”

            Koujaku is fairly drunk, but he’s aware enough to realize he and Mizuki look ridiculous, tangled in each other, when they look up at Noiz, whose arms are folded across his chest as he smirks down at them. Koujaku frowns.

            “Shut up, he’s getting my – my kimono – ”

            “Are you already drunk, old man?”

            “Stop _calling_ me that,” Koujaku mumbles. He’s not exactly offended anymore, as it seems to mean something different to Noiz than it does to him, it’s just tired. Mizuki pulls away and Koujaku brings himself to his feet and faces Noiz, squaring his shoulders against the younger boys’, and they stare each other down. Noiz has those heavy-lidded eyes and that small smirk and Koujaku is surprised to find that it doesn’t bother him as much now that he knows what Noiz looks like when he’s on his hands and knees, desperate to get fucked. Koujaku thinks he might be smirking now, too.

            And when Mizuki stands up and says, “ _Are you two about to kiss or something?”_ he _knows_ he’s smiling. Noiz grins even wider and Koujaku hates that he can’t stop himself from doing the same. Mizuki shakes his head and says he’s going inside and then stumbles, immediately caught by a Dry Juice member and lead away. Koujaku hands Noiz Mizuki’s old beer bottle.

            “Wanna catch up, kiddo?”

            Noiz snatches it and downs it, then doubles over and spits it back up so fast that Koujaku loses his balance laughing, and actually needs to catch his breath. In fact, he laughs so hard he starts to choke and falls to his knees, next to Noiz, still spitting up beer trying to get the taste of his mouth, muttering, _“So bitter,”_ and Koujaku has no capacity to care what the people around them are thinking.

            Making fun of Noiz is fun, but it’s Koujaku who’s throwing up two hours later in a bathroom stall of his own building. He knows by now not to mix beer and liquor but he always makes this mistake when he’s too drunk to remember. Mizuki has already been helped home by some Dry Juice people after punching a lamppost on the street corner. Koujaku has completely lost track of Aoba and Ren, and the one time he actually came across Clear, his gasmask scared him so bad he’s pretty sure he almost pissed his pants. He _really_ wishes he would take that thing off.

            It’s occurring to him how fucking scary it actually is that he’s never seen Clear’s face as he’s heaving into the toilet when he feels fingers against his neck and cheek but he’s too worried about not missing the bowl to move his head. He feels his hair pulled back and at first he throws his hand back, trying to stop whoever it is from revealing his tattoo.

            “Aoba,” he mumbles, “don’t – ”

            “It’s me,” comes Noiz’s voice and Koujaku lurches again so strongly that he can’t be bothered with his tattoo or with Noiz. “You’re getting your hair in it.”

            “Thanks,” Koujaku manages before he completely blacks out.

            He wakes up on a floor somewhere and it takes him a few seconds to realize he’s at Mizuki’s. Mizuki is staring at him from the couch, his eyes fluttering open and closed and he looks dead inside. Koujaku feels the same.

            “I’m never doing that again,” Mizuki tells him with a slight nod.

            “I’m going to throw up.”

            “I would love to join you,” Mizuki says and they both crawl carefully to his cramped bathroom. Koujaku props himself against the wall and Mizuki against the tub as they wait to see if they need to evacuate their stomachs more.

            “What did we do last night?” Koujaku asks.

            “I punched a metal pole,” Mizuki says, raising his hand up and Koujaku almost starts when he sees the swollen thing, wrapped in bandages and gauze.

            “Shit, Mizuki,” he says. “All I did was… throw up in the bathroom.”

            “You cried about Aoba,” Mizuki tells him and Koujaku takes in a sharp breath. He doesn’t remember that.

            “I can always count on you to tell it like it is.”

            “I just have to use as few words as possible,” he says. “Every time I open my mouth I feel like I’m gonna puke.”

            Several hours later, they’ve finally eaten and re-hydrated and recapped the night based on their patched-together memories, and Mizuki assures him that no one else heard him. Koujaku is terrified to ask exactly what he said, but Mizuki shrugs and tells him he just got extremely emotional about how much their own friendship meant, and that lead to how much Aoba’s friendship meant.

            “You said some stuff about how happy you were for him and Ren, and… that’s when I forget,” Mizuki shakes his head. For all Mizuki knows, he’s just trying to retrace his steps, but Koujaku is so relieved that he didn’t confess to Mizuki that he actually feels the entire hangover lift away.

            It’s two days later that Noiz shows up while the four of them – Koujaku, Mizuki, Aoba, and Ren – are eating lunch and they all look to Koujaku, who shrugs at them. He waves Noiz over and while Aoba and Ren share a confused look, Mizuki seems to stare at Koujaku like he knows something Koujaku doesn’t. He furrows his brows at them.

            “For fuck’s sake, you’re the ones who told me to be nice and now you’re giving me these stupid looks when I try to do it?”

            “Fair enough,” Aoba puts up his hands in defense just as Noiz sits down. Aoba turns to him and smiles. “I don’t know if I saw you at the party on Saturday. Did it take you two days to recover, too?”

            “No,” Noiz smirks, putting his elbow on the table and resting his head in his hand, then jerking it towards Koujaku and Mizuki. “These two, though…”

            “Don’t,” Mizuki says as he raises his still-bandaged hand and Noiz actually seems to wince. He doesn’t say anything, but he stares at it for a few seconds before looking to Koujaku and smiling.

            “Well, _this_ guy,” he says. “He sure appreciates your friendship, Aoba.”

            Koujaku’s heart falls through the floor as Aoba furrows his brows and says, _“Eh?”_ and even Mizuki seems concerned.

            “He was crying for _hours_ ,” Noiz says. “Just, you know, about friendship.”

            “Aw,” Aoba coos as his eyes turn to Koujaku and he smiles brightly. “Kouja- _ku,”_ he sings. “You’re almost as bad as me!”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?” Koujaku grunts.

            “When I drink too much,” Aoba grins.

            “Yeah,” Mizuki nods. He’s trying to save Koujaku. “Aoba sure can rattle on. Koujaku’s nothing compared to that.”

            Aoba protests, but all Koujaku can do while the argument continues is stare at Noiz, who stares back, smile in place. He’s going to kill him.

            Revenge is the only thing on his mind when he invites him out to Black Needle that night, and at first Noiz refuses, tries to come up with some reason why Koujaku is too obvious, and Koujaku plays dumb, tells him if he’s too scared to simply come hang out – in public – around people – who know him – who wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him – then that’s fine too, he just had to say something.

            That’s how he gets Noiz at Black Needle that night and manages to get him tipsy enough to start making his drinks for him, so Noiz doesn’t realize how much alcohol is going into each drink. This is terrible, morally unethical, or something like that, Koujaku is sure, but he couldn’t care less. He’s never seen Noiz drunk before, and it’s not until Noiz puts a hand on his knee that he even considers fucking again, but somehow they fall behind the curtain of the blocked-off tattoo parlor, groping at each other’s clothes and trying to rip them from their bodies. Koujaku hasn’t felt this fervent in a long time and it’s Noiz who initiated. It’s Noiz who leaned in and whispered, _“Take me somewhere and fuck me… please_ ,” while Koujaku was making his – seventh? drink of the night. So maybe this is a little wrong, getting Noiz drunk and then fucking him, but Noiz won’t let Koujaku up at this point.

            He shoves him into a chair, pulls the lotion he found in a cabinet from his pocket and fingers himself open and Koujaku is a little tipsy himself, so he sits back and watches Noiz’s face as he sighs and gasps and moans and then he hunches forward when Noiz finally sits down on his dick, and then he cries into Noiz’s neck when he comes hard inside him. Noiz rides his dick so hard that Koujaku is worried he’s going to hurt himself; he feels like he’s getting rubbed raw, but he can’t do anything but look at Noiz’s face when he shoves him backwards, both his palms on his chest as he comes between them. He thrusts down several times as he’s coming and Koujaku can hardly believe how worn out he is from hardly doing anything.

            “This place is supposed to stay sterile,” he says between labored breaths and Noiz snorts before he leaves.

            And this is how it happens, and this is how it happens _often_. Koujaku still sleeps with women, but they’re suddenly hardly comparable to how hard Noiz rides him or how open Noiz is to experimenting or how loudly Noiz will beg if Koujaku forces him to. Koujaku wakes up to Noiz in his bed more often these days, and once he threatens to take a picture of Noiz, naked and spent on his bed, but Noiz just shakes his head with a smile and asks if he really thinks he’d care if everyone saw his dick, also how would he explain the fact that Noiz was in his bed in the first place? Koujaku should be angry, but he actually laughs. That’s a good point. He hadn’t thought of that.

            Noiz is always adamant that it doesn’t mean anything, but Koujaku assures him he doesn’t need to be. Koujaku may like fucking Noiz, but he’s certainly not in love with him. He still hates him in a lot of ways, and Noiz still grates on him every time they go out, it’s just easier to handle him now. Noiz rolls his eyes and tells him that’s because he’s fucking his aggression out, but Koujaku has never been one for hate sex, so he’s sure that’s not the case. Then again, the only other solution is that he’s getting used to Noiz or, God forbid, endeared to him, so he assumes hate fucking is just a part of him that he never knew existed because actually starting to not mind Noiz is the worst thing he can think of.

            He always says the same thing, _“It doesn’t mean anything, we’re not boyfriends, we’re not holding hands or anything_ ,” and Koujaku always nods earnestly. He really doesn’t want anyone to know. He really doesn’t care about Noiz in any capacity other than someone who he can call up at midnight and is always willing to come over. Sometimes he’s good for a laugh, but mostly Koujaku still rolls his eyes and feels his blood boil when they’re in public together. He doesn’t exactly think Noiz is promiscuous – or at least that it matters if he is – and he doesn’t want to see him seriously hurt or anything, but he really couldn’t care less what else he does with his time. They’re not holding hands or anything.

            The first time he goes to Noiz’s apartment he’s somewhat flabbergasted that it’s so nice. It’s two bedrooms and two bathrooms and Koujaku makes fun of him for having so much space when he’s a lonely little loser, but Noiz just smirks and nips at Koujaku’s bottom lip before bending over his kitchen table for Koujaku to fuck him. It’s clean and well kept too, which is surprising, since Noiz always struck Koujaku as a dirty little fucker.

            Sometimes Noiz mutters something Koujaku doesn’t understand and he knows it’s a different language. He knows Noiz has a slight accent, but he’s never been able to place it. Noiz is obviously not Japanese, but if Koujaku pulls his head back by his hair and tells him to repeat himself, Noiz won’t do it. If Koujaku grabs his cheeks and pushes his lips out and asks what language he’s speaking, Noiz won’t answer. He hates that he can’t understand him, but he usually only does it when he’s coming hard against a wall or when Koujaku is pounding into him so solidly that the sound fills the room, so he assumes he’s not saying anything too incriminating.

            One day they’re sitting at Black Needle and Mizuki says he has tension in his shoulders and Koujaku frowns. He hates every time that Mizuki brings up stress because he’s still scared that he’ll be on an airplane out of Japan the next day, but instead of bringing it up, he just says he’s been, in contrast, a lot more relaxed lately. Noiz laughs and mutters, _“I wonder why_ ,” and Koujaku has to bite his lip in anger to keep from responding.

            Later that night, Koujaku has Noiz on his back and he’s grunting louder than he thinks he ever has before as he pulls down on his shoulders, his arms wrapped under him and around his back and they both start to speak at once – filthy little insults that they still like to fling at each other, especially during sex, but they both pause, both say, _“No, you go,”_ and then both stare at each other as Koujaku stills his movements inside of him and they can’t help but laugh a little.

            Noiz likes it so rough that Koujaku can’t help but get riled up every time. Sometimes he can’t believe Noiz isn’t crying in pain at how hard he bites, but he’s always encouraging it, always shoving his mouth into his flesh _more_ , rather than pulling away, so Koujaku just does what’s asked of him. He supposes eventually that fucking Noiz _is_ sort of stress relieving, because he knows Noiz wants it as hard as possible, and he knows Noiz isn’t going to tell. He’s still more bothered by the fact that he’s fucking Noiz than the fact that he’s fucking a man, and he’s still surprised by himself for that. He mentions it vaguely, once, as a simple answer to Noiz’s question, _“So, have you accepted that you’re bi, yet?”_ He shrugs and says, _“I’m more concerned that I’m fucking_ you _than a man_ ,” and Noiz grins. He promises he’s not going to tell but Koujaku doesn’t know why. Noiz sort of has the upper hand here, but Koujaku is definitely not going to point that out.

            Koujaku never really has to question whether or not he still hates Noiz, because Noiz still pulls shit like telling Aoba that he and Koujaku would be a cute couple when Ren isn’t around. But when they’re all sitting at Black Needle the next Saturday, Mizuki asks what’s in a bubble bomb, and Koujaku and Noiz both start to answer, then stop, then look at each other, then say, _“No, you go_ ,” and then they both roll their lips inward to try to keep from smiling. Aoba finally answers – _“I think it’s bubble gum vodka and Red Bull,” –_ while Koujaku keeps his eyes glued to the table, desperately trying to not laugh at Noiz.

            “You know,” Mizuki says, his voice carrying over to Koujaku heavily enough that he looks up at him. “I’m glad you two are getting along finally. I was getting pretty sick of pulling you two off each other all the time.”

            Koujaku nods, swallows hard, ignores the innuendo, and hears Noiz snicker from across the table. He can’t tell if Mizuki is looking at him knowingly or if he’s looking at him genuinely, but he sure as fuck isn’t going to ask him and find out.

            “We’re never on each other anymore,” Noiz says finally and Koujaku rolls his eyes. Maybe it’s better to acknowledge the joke than pretend it isn’t there. That’s what he would have done before he started fucking Noiz, anyway.

            Later that night he pulls Noiz close as the strawberry blond straddles his lap in his bed, and whispers against his ear, “I thought you said you weren’t going to tell. Do I have to punish you for that?”

            Noiz laughs and nods his head once, pulling his head to the side to expose his neck.

            “Punish me as hard as you can,” he says, and Koujaku leaves a trail of bruising hickeys that Noiz has to explain the next day to Aoba, who points at them immediately when he walks into Black Needle.

            “Looks like you were busy last night,” he chides with a grin. Koujaku stares him down, dares him to say anything about it, but Noiz doesn’t have his signature smirk on this time. In fact, he looks embarrassed. He reaches up and touches them lightly with his fingers and shrugs.

            “Got kinda carried away,” he says and Koujaku has to admit: he really likes making Noiz blush.

 

           

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this was a day late!! i was in chicago to watch the anime with a friend with our cardboard cutouts of trip and sei. also suffered a nasty cut on my finger thanks to trip (cutting him out) and its pretty deep; i'm in a splint the next week or so, so i'm not sure the next update will be out on time either, if i'm unable to type. as it is pretty difficult to do right now. trip is an asshole but we all knew this so i only have myself to blame


	7. you're a cad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i should be better
> 
> but i'm worse

            There are a lot of things in Koujaku’s life that he wishes he could take back – and they’re so obvious that it’s laughable – but if there’s one thing he wishes he could just _stop_ doing, it would be running his fingers through women’s hair and pretending that they’re Aoba.

            He can hardly be subtle about it anymore. Not to himself, at least. The girls may have no idea, but he knows he’s doing it and it kills him every time. And it’s not just a lazy, wanton carding of his fingers through their strands in the morning; it’s during the act of making love to them itself, and it’s _that_ which he feels the worst about. It’s easy to close his eyes and run his fingers down a curvy waist and fantasize that it’s Aoba’s, or lick a stripe across a flat, stretched stomach and recall the several times in his life that he’s seen Aoba’s shirt ride up, revealing his own pale, taught abdomen. And he wishes it would stop. He wishes he could just _not want to think about Aoba_ , and sometimes he doesn’t. There are definitely times where Aoba doesn’t cross his mind when once he would have, but when he’s in bed, with longhaired women, it’s all he can think about and he wishes he didn’t.

            He doesn’t, however, wish that he could stop fucking Noiz.

            It’s never even occurred to him, that he could regret pressing the pads of his fingers against Noiz’s hips, grabbing at his pelvic bones, digging his nails deep into the cave between the bone and the skin. He’s never thought about being ashamed of telling Noiz he’s getting chubbier from all the junk he eats, but that he doesn’t really mind it and he still looks just as good as the first time they fucked; he doesn’t care that he doesn’t actually think Noiz has gained any weight, he just likes seeing him get embarrassed (Noiz always gets embarrassed if Koujaku says anything appreciative of his body; he can insult him all he wants and it just gets Noiz going harder, but if he compliments him, Noiz all but shuts down a blushing wreck). At least, if Koujaku ever was ashamed of that, he hasn’t been in a while.

            But pretending a woman is someone else – that’s shameful. Not only is it awful to the women, practically admitting that they aren’t good enough, even if they’d never know, but it’s also a terrible thing he’s doing to Aoba: imagining his body against his will, without his consent, without him knowing. It’s always bothered him to defile someone in his mind, even if they’d never know, and doing it to Aoba has to be the lowest of the low.

            Then Koujaku realizes he’d probably do the same with men, were he sleeping with any longhaired men who he could pretend were Aoba. But as it is, Koujaku is only sleeping with Noiz, whose hair is not the correct length, nor his body the correct type, nor his voice the correct pitch – absolutely nothing about Noiz reminds Koujaku of Aoba, or of anyone else. Noiz is just Noiz. And that’s the most daunting part of all this.

            And he tells Noiz so, on accident, one night, while Noiz is lounging at the foot of his bed. He doesn’t stay over often, but he decided to tonight, so he’s naked and laying on his stomach, his ass curving distractingly into the air (Koujaku is more than spent; they just fucked for almost three hours and Koujaku came twice, but Noiz knows exactly the kinds of things that Koujaku likes now, and Noiz’s ass is one of them). He’s on his Coil, flipping through screens idly, and Koujaku keeps watching him. He’s taken aback at just how comfortable Noiz is here, in his bed, completely nude. Koujaku imagines that takes a lot of trust, which is something he didn’t realize he’d built between himself and the younger boy.

            “Can I tell you something?” he asks. He’s taking a calculated risk here, but Noiz is the one admitting he’d rather stay the night than go home alone. Koujaku’s company has raised a level. It is now preferable to being alone, and Koujaku isn’t too stupid to realize that.

            Noiz turns his head and shrugs.

            “Sure.”

            “I did something awful the other day.”

            Noiz smirks and goes back to his Coil.

            “What was it?” he asks. “Stepped on a flower? Killed a bug?”

            “What are you implying?”

            “Knight in shining armor Koujaku, doing something awful?” he drawls. “Never.”

            Koujaku frowns. He’s never thought of himself that way. Do people think of him like that? There’s always been a certain respect for him from the women in Midorijima and after Oval Tower that seemed to multiply, but he never thought of himself as particularly altruistic.

            “Knight in shining armor?”

            “Don’t play dumb,” Noiz mumbles. “Just tell me what you did.”

            “I don’t want to tell you anymore,” Koujaku says and Noiz gives a laugh.

            “Tell me.”

            Koujaku studies him for a second but it takes Noiz a while to realize his eyes are on him. When he finally turns, he raises an eyebrow and shakes his head a bit, ushering Koujaku to continue. Koujaku sighs and rolls his eyes.

            “I was with a woman,” he says slowly, “a beautiful, blonde-haired woman. And when I came, I accidentally started to say a different name.”

            Noiz snorts and turns back to his Coil again.

            “ _That’s_ awful?” he mocks. “Of course. To you, it would be.”

            “It _is_ awful,” Koujaku grunts.

            “There are worse things in the world.”

            “Of course,” Koujaku shrugs. “But I’m not talking about those things. This was bad, too.”

            Noiz cocks his head to the side and rolls his lips outward.

            “I guess you’re right,” he says. “You are _such_ an asshole.”

            “Why don’t you just go home?” Koujaku says with a scowl. If he’s not going to take this seriously, then why bother? And why did Koujaku think he’d take this seriously, anyway? Noiz grins.

            “What did you call her?” he asks. Then he turns and stares Koujaku right in the eye. “‘ _Aoba_?’”

            Koujaku can’t reply. Noiz figured this out a long time ago and Koujaku can only admit to himself that it’s a relief that someone knows. It’s a relief that someone knows and he didn’t have to tell them. And he still doesn’t. He thinks his silence is as much of an answer to Noiz as if he had burst out with, _“Yes, it was Aoba, I call them all ‘Aoba’ because I can’t think about anyone but Aoba. Well, and – ”_

He stops his thought process there. Noiz shakes his head a bit and snorts.

            “Figures,” he mutters. “Do you do that with a lot of women?”

            Koujaku doesn’t reply again and his silence answers the question again. It’s not even that it happens _often_. It’s that it happens _always_. There’s not a single woman who he doesn’t use to remind himself of Aoba. That’s why Noiz is the only person with short hair that he fucks. Because Noiz is the only person that he doesn’t need to remind him of Aoba.

            He isn’t sure what that means.

            “So,” Noiz says, “you want me to throw on a wig, or something? I can try to go more high-pitched like him. Or just do me from behind more. That’s easier to pretend with.”

            Koujaku is surprised his first reaction isn’t to curse, scream at him and kick him off the bed. He does cringe at his flippant observations of Aoba’s sexuality, but it isn’t the same as before. He actually feels _bad_ but he can’t put his finger on quite why. Maybe it’s because Noiz is also talking about himself, and not just sexualizing Aoba to dig at Koujaku. There’s something Koujaku doesn’t like about Noiz’s initial reaction that he isn’t good enough either. If any of those women found out Koujaku was pretending they were someone else, they’d slap him, tell him he really screwed up and storm out on him. He’d never see them again. And they’d be in the right.

            Noiz immediately assumes the role of ‘toy on the side,’ the toy that Koujaku would use as a placeholder for whom he really wants. And that’s terrible, but Koujaku is fairly sure that about a month ago, he wouldn’t have worried about Noiz’s feelings at all. For some reason, he doesn’t like that now.

            “N-no,” he stutters. “I don’t – I don’t pretend that you’re him.”

            “Hm?” Noiz asks. He’s completely unaware of how serious this situation is and it makes Koujaku feel very childish. A little relieved, but still childish.

            “I don’t pretend that you’re Aoba,” Koujaku repeats. “You’re just you. You’re Noiz.”

            Noiz looks over at him, his eyebrows stitched harshly and his eyes heavy and dark, as if Koujaku’s just committed the ultimate atrocity – and, in a way, Koujaku thinks he may have. Noiz frowns and shakes his head.

            “What the hell are you saying?” he asks. Koujaku nods to the side and holds out his hand.

            “Come here,” he says. He plans on just pulling him up and nipping his neck or kissing his nose and then adding some scathing insult, but Noiz slowly crawls up the bed and places his hand so gently in Koujaku’s that Koujaku stills for a moment, stares at Noiz’s hand, the piercings glinting in the lamplight, and he feels the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

            He’s having a moment with Noiz.

            He wasn’t expecting this to happen – ever, and now it’s happening. Noiz’s hand is in his and when he finally clasps his fingers around it, Noiz looks up and they lock eyes. Noiz’s lips part slowly and his eyes are wide, as if he’s just realized something and he shakes his head a bit before he says:

            _“Is this what you want, old man?”_

            Koujaku frowns, is about to ask what he means, when Noiz is suddenly straddling him, throwing open his kimono with such force that Koujaku can hardly speak. Then Noiz is jerking him to some hardness and Koujaku is still moaning incoherently in surprise when Noiz grabs the lube from the bedside table – and the piece of fabric that Koujaku had used earlier to bind his wrists with. Noiz shoves it unceremoniously into Koujaku’s mouth and presses his jaw closed with one hand as he uncaps the lube with his other. Koujaku has to admit, this has all gotten him fairly hard again. He’s not sure what’s going on, but he knows he likes it.

            Noiz hovers above Koujaku’s dick after he coats it in lube and Koujaku wants to cry out, yell at him to open himself first, but he can’t. Noiz sits himself down slowly and all Koujaku can do is slam his head backwards onto the pillow and let his eyes roll into the back of his head as he moans against the makeshift gag, which Noiz is still holding in place. It gets progressively harder to breathe as the boy starts to ride him hard and fast and so rough that Koujaku can’t help but buck up into him as he’s muffled behind the cloth.

            But it feels different. Noiz isn’t being just aggressive, like usual. Noiz is _angry_. He keeps his hand pressed against Koujaku’s mouth as he rides him with a scowl. His upper lip snarls towards his nose and his eyes look dark, almost demon-like and maybe it’s just because the light is dim and Koujaku is worn out, but he’s almost scared of the younger boy as he bounces up and down as hard as he can. If Koujaku starts to make a sound, even if it’s a strangled gulp for air, Noiz growls at him and shoves the cloth in further; if Koujaku tries to move at all, Noiz smacks his ankle against his thigh and grips his jaw tighter between his fingers. He never speaks a word – not anything that Koujaku can understand at least – but he can’t break eye contact with him and he can tell – Noiz is livid.

            Noiz comes a third time, all over his own stomach and it drips down onto Koujaku’s and that’s when he finally takes his hand off Koujaku’s mouth, ripping the cloth away with it and Koujaku gasps for air. As he’s struggling to breathe, Noiz leans down and sets his jaw in place, touches the tips of their noses together and mutters:

            _“Don’t ever fucking hold my hand again_.”

            And then he kisses Koujaku so hard that it steals his breath away all over again. Their lips lock, the hiss of air loud and obnoxious and baiting as Noiz breathes in fully through his nose, still keeping Koujaku from filling his own lungs. He’s sure it’s just because he’s been gagged the past fifteen minutes, but the kiss leaves Koujaku light-headed, and he swears Noiz smirks at him before he gets up and walks out of the room, leaving Koujaku to himself, panting and still hard.

            Koujaku can’t imagine trying to jerk off now, but he does it anyway. When he comes, he thinks about how pitiful Noiz is and it stings. His chest feels heavy. He didn’t realize Noiz was so miserable – and he gets the feeling Noiz doesn’t realize how miserable he is either.

            It’s not his obligation to point it out, but it weighs on him. It’s not that it ruins his days; it’s just always there, nagging at him from the back of his head. Noiz is so quick to act like he’s better than Koujaku but obviously doesn’t think too highly of himself when it comes down to it. Does he even recognize he just showed his cards? Does he know what he said? Does Noiz understand that by resigning himself to a replacement for Aoba that he’s admitted he thinks that’s all he’s good for?

            But why does Koujaku care?

            And why is Noiz so good at keeping this relationship a secret? Why is Noiz so adamant that it means nothing?

            And why can’t Koujaku keep up with him?

            Koujaku is surrounded by his friends and his Rib team at Black Needle; they’re all half-drunk but Koujaku is still sipping on his first drink of the night. It’s all still weighing on him. Is Noiz just stupid, or does he have some deep-seeded self-loathing that Koujaku’s never noticed? Is that why Koujaku keeps going back to him? Because there’s a sort of subtle connection there that he’s never realized? Is he, subconsciously, relating to Noiz?

            Koujaku was put in charge of inviting him tonight – of course, not without a sly aside from Mizuki, a little breathless murmur from the corner of his mouth, _“Strange how quickly things change, huh?”_ and Koujaku _knows_ that Mizuki would have told him if Noiz had given them away. He didn’t think they were being that obvious in public, and he’d have no problem with ignoring him for the next few weeks, if he didn’t feel like Noiz was so – unstable.

            When Noiz walks through the doors, Koujaku waves him over with a smile and it’s all fine and normal at first: Aoba and Ren are sitting shoulder-to-shoulder and Mizuki is on his right, constantly back and forth between the table and the bar to bring alcohol. Noiz sits between Mizuki and Ren, isn’t drinking, and hardly looks at Koujaku, even when he’s speaking. If he can find anything to make fun of him for he does, right away, but while Koujaku used to see Noiz as an immature child, years younger and far more annoying than he, now he sees a different kind of child – it’s like Noiz needs… protecting. The words, _“He’s just a kid,”_ ring through Koujaku’s mind. He’s just a kid. He doesn’t deserve to feel that shitty about himself. Then again, Koujaku did plenty of things by Noiz’s age that he deserved to despise himself for. He wonders what Noiz’s demons are.

            An hour into the night, Noiz gets some simple historical fact wrong – he doesn’t even get it wrong as much as he stops mid-sentence, realizing he’s mixed something up – and some Beni Shigure guys start to chastise him and Koujaku feels bad. Noiz bites his bottom lip and looks away and Koujaku knows that he’s embarrassed, so he cuts in and tells them to shut up. There’s an intense and awkward silence after he does so, and when he looks to Noiz, he has his eyebrows furrowed. He’s not even a little grateful. He stands up and walks away and Koujaku looks back to his Rib friends and shrugs.

            Twenty minutes after that, Noiz is sitting dejectedly at the bar, as if he’s a puppy who’s been left in the rain, so Koujaku asks him what’s wrong and again, Noiz stares at him as if he’s never met him before in his life.

            “Thirsty,” he says and Koujaku nods, heads behind the bar and gets him a glass of water. Noiz takes it, but then walks away again, shaking his head a bit and Koujaku thinks he must be coming on too strong. He calls him a brat and annoying and a cucumber-head for good measure, and everyone else just rolls their eyes with a smile, like it’s the most routine thing in the world – and it is. But Noiz keeps leaving every time Koujaku comes around and he’s not sure what else to do. If Noiz hates himself, then surely having someone who used to hate him too be kind to him would make him feel better, right? Koujaku can hold a grudge, and he has to admit that what Noiz is doing right now is very, _very_ frustrating, but he has a soft spot for kids – maybe it’s leftover big brotherly intentions from Aoba. But Noiz is a kid, whether he likes it or not, and Koujaku has to accept that he’s not as bad as he used to think he was.

            Koujaku is staring at the floor near the bathrooms, tucked away in a corner of the shop, trying to decide if he should just drop it and let Noiz figure his shit out on his own when he feels a tug on the shoulder of his kimono. He stumbles backwards and he can just make out the strings of Noiz’s hat before he’s shoved into the men’s room and then further into a stall as Noiz slams and locks the door.

            “What are you doing?” Koujaku asks, his heart racing. That really scared him. It all happened so fast. Noiz turns and folds his arms over his chest, staring down his nose at him.

            “What are _you_ doing?” he says. “What is all this shit tonight?”

            “What are you talking about?” Koujaku asks. He does realize what Noiz is talking about, but part of him really doesn’t understand at the same time. He’s aware that Noiz has been acting put out, but he doesn’t comprehend why.

            “Why are you – being _nice?”_

            Koujaku cocks his head.

            “I’m not being nice,” he shrugs. “You’re just seeing things you want to see.”

            Noiz smirks.

            “That’s not going to work on me,” he says. “Fess up. Why are you being nice to me suddenly?”

            Koujaku refuses to answer. He shrugs and looks over the stall door as if he’s annoyed.

            “If you’re convinced I’m being nice to you I won’t contest it,” he says, reaching out around Noiz and unlocking the door. “But I’m not, so I don’t have an answer for –”

            Noiz’s elbow slams the door shut before Koujaku can open it very far and he jumps. He looks at Noiz in shock and the younger boy puts his hand on Koujaku’s, which is still resting on the lock.

            “Was it this?” he asks. “Was it the handholding?”

            Koujaku’s mouth goes dry.

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

            Noiz tilts up onto his toes to press his nose to Koujaku’s and squints at him.

            “Are you feeling too romantic?” he asks. “Have you gotten too invested?”

            Too invested? Koujaku wouldn’t really put it that way. Noiz could walk away now and never come back and Koujaku would be a little distracted for a month or so, but he’d get over it eventually.

            “No,” he says, and the honesty must come through in his voice because Noiz backs off. He nods a couple times but doesn’t take his hand off Koujaku’s.

            “Okay,” he says. “But stop acting like this.”

            “Like what?”

            “Like _this!”_ he shouts. “Stop playing the part of some prince.”

            “Prince?” you ask in confusion. “What does that mean?”

            “Stop playing _dumb_ , too. Just go back to how it was before. When you hated me and I hated you and you would fuck me really hard and then punch me.”

            Koujaku frowns.

            “That’s what you want?”

            “ _Yes_ ,” Noiz says with a desperation that Koujaku has never heard in his voice before. “I don’t need you coming to my defense or making me drinks or watching out for me.”

            “But you’d like it if _someone_ did that, right?”

            Koujaku says it before he can stop himself, but he doesn’t regret it. Noiz pulls his head back and scowls.

            “I should have seen this coming,” he says. “I thought you didn’t need this bullshit connection with a person just to fuck them, what with all the girls you sleep with. But you can’t fuck someone more than once without trying to find some stupid romance in it, can you? What do you call that? Humanity?”

            Koujaku scoffs.

            “I don’t feel humane towards you,” he lies. He hates that Noiz’s eyes light up, that the smirk returns, that he inches toward him, that his own body responds to their sudden proximity.

            “Yeah?” Noiz urges. “Prove it.”

            “Prove it? How?”

            “What do you want to do with me _right now_?” Noiz asks, and Koujaku rolls his eyes and looks away but he’s backed into the corner of the stall and his jeans are tightening and then Noiz has his hand on his growing erection, groping it until it’s painful and Koujaku is whining to let him out of his jeans. This all happened so fast too, just as fast as how he’d found himself in here, and the conversation is a confusing blur to him as Noiz unzips his jeans and gets on his knees, taking his dick into his mouth and Koujaku realizes it’s the first time he’s felt Noiz’s tongue stud against his dick. That feels fucking great.

            “Noiz…” he moans. Noiz takes his mouth off him and looks up.

            “I won’t be able to talk with my mouth full,” he mutters. “You’re just going to have to tell me what you want. You also better be quick about it. I doubt we have much time before someone has to come piss.”

            Then his mouth is back on Koujaku and Koujaku is trying to grab at anything around him to keep himself steady on his feet; Noiz is incredibly good at this and maybe if he weren’t so distracted by Noiz flattening his tongue and running it slowly along his length, Koujaku would be a little more upset that he’s obviously had so much practice at this, but as it is, Koujaku is very, _very_ distracted.

            Noiz brings his hand to Koujaku’s and guide it into his hair so Koujaku grips it, trying at first not to pull it too tight, but then he remembers Noiz’s words. He doesn’t want romance. He doesn’t want Koujaku to care for him. Koujaku opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling for a few seconds before he tightens his fingers and starts to pull Noiz’s head backwards slowly. He can feel the air Noiz is expelling through his nose and the complete slack in his neck, a fairly clear signal that he’s giving himself over, allowing Koujaku to move him how he wishes, and Koujaku has to close his eyes again before he does it.

            He thrusts Noiz’s head forward quickly, jutting into his mouth at the same time and he hears an almost-gag and he sort of hates it but he also _really_ likes it, so he does it again – pulls Noiz’s head off and then thrusts it back on, and before he can stop himself, he’s fucking Noiz’s mouth at a harsh, steady pace, and Noiz is making sounds from the back of his throat that Koujaku is sure are involuntary, but he doesn’t care. If Noiz doesn’t stop him, then he won’t stop himself.

            “You’re good at this,” he whispers. Noiz makes a sound that resembles a laugh. “I can’t believe I’ve never made you do this before. We’re definitely doing this again.”

            Noiz moans and fuck. That feels good. Koujaku shoves his dick as far as he can and holds Noiz’s head there. His feels his fingers grip his waist forcefully. It’s too much for him.

            “Moan for me,” he says and Noiz does his best; it’s a mix between a sensual moan and a whimper and Koujaku can feel it in his spine, so he pulls Noiz’s head back off and lets him catch his breath. “Good boy.”

            “Fuck,” Noiz mutters as he licks his bottom lip and Koujaku likes the way that looks a lot. There’s drool trailing down Noiz’s mouth and it suddenly occurs to Koujaku that he doesn’t mind if Noiz looks like this – as long as he’s the only one doing it to him.

            Of course, he would realize that he feels a bit stronger for Noiz than he ever fathomed while he’s standing in a bathroom stall, getting a rushed blowjob from the boy. That’s how these things always worked for him. It was in the middle of a suicidal break with reality that he accepted his feelings for Aoba, so this really doesn’t surprise him.

            Of course, it would be during this particular epiphany that the bathroom door opens, too.

            Noiz is still on his knees, looking up at Koujaku, his own spit trailing down his chin, and even he looks a little nervous. He raises his eyebrows and Koujaku puts his finger to his lips urgently, daring Noiz to make any noise. He closes his mouth shrugs as Koujaku hears the footsteps approach a urinal across from the stall. Whoever it is, they’re humming strongly, and if their staggered swaying tells Koujaku anything, it’s that they’re pretty drunk.

            Mizuki loves to sing when he gets drunk.

            He looks down at Noiz and mouths: _“Mizuki?”_ He shrugs and tries to lower his head the best he can. Koujaku is stone still and Noiz can’t seem to crane his neck enough to see anything so he just looks back up at Koujaku and shrugs again.

            The urinal flushes and they walk to the sink. Noiz loves this, Koujaku can tell by the curious grin on his face, but he’s keeping his mouth shut, so Koujaku isn’t too worried. Noiz is still adamant that he won’t tell anyone and whether it’s because he’s just as embarrassed to be fucking Koujaku as Koujaku was him or whether it’s some other reason Koujaku can’t put his finger on, he knows Noiz isn’t going to give them away. That doesn’t mean whoever this is won’t see them anyway.

            Noiz rises slowly, quietly, as the water runs and puts his hands gingerly on Koujaku’s wrists, then looks him in the eye. There’s a playful glint in his, and then he bites his bottom lip as he grins and Koujaku is more taken with how childishly playful he looks just then than he is with the potential intruder at the sink.

            But he doesn’t need to worry much longer, for he hears footsteps leaving and opening the door, then the door closing and Noiz raises his eyebrows.

            “That was close,” he smirks. Just before he kneels back down swiftly and takes Koujaku in so deep that the back of his dick hits his throat, he adds, “Are you?”

            Koujaku ends up coming against the back of his throat about three minutes later. Noiz pulls off just before Koujaku is finished and he rubs his lips against the head of his dick, smearing his cum around like lip balm, and Koujaku is both incredibly turned on and exceptionally disturbed. Then he stands up and leans in to kiss him, something that Koujaku would never let him do if he weren’t blissed out from orgasm. He tastes himself and it’s not as bad as he thought, but it’s definitely salty and warm and not something he especially looks forward to – he’s never tasted anyone’s cum before, but he assumes it’s only a matter of time – and then Noiz grins sloppily at him before he exits the stall, leaving Koujaku to clean himself up.

            “You don’t have to hold my hand,” he calls from the bathroom door. Koujaku stares at the floor, his mind completely blank, for a full minute before he grabs some toilet paper and wipes his dick off.

            For the next day or two, Koujaku wonders if he’s fallen for Noiz. That’s the only way he can explain still hooking up with him, but then Noiz asks Ren and Aoba how they’d feel about introducing a third person to their relationship, and Mizuki has to tug on Koujaku’s kimono under the table to keep him from strangling Noiz right there (Ren is confused by the question and hardly answers; Aoba frowns at Noiz and there’s an awkward silence before Mizuki changes the subject, but Noiz smirks at Koujaku and he almost flips the table over to get to him before he feels another tug from his best friend; later Mizuki will tell Koujaku that Noiz must have a crush on him and is being immature about his jealousy, and Koujaku won’t know how to respond).

            He’s confused – but that’s nothing new. There’s almost something comforting about the bewilderment. He’d probably go into shock if he actually understood anything that was happening to him.

            It’s a week after the bathroom hookup that Koujaku finally breaks down.

            It’s less of a _breakdown_ and more of a nonchalant confession following a slow burn, and Noiz doesn’t seem surprised at all. In fact, he seems totally unmoved when Koujaku says it:

            “I don’t hate you, but I don’t like you. I think I’m just drawn to this sort of relationship and I don’t know why. I don’t know why I keep coming back to you.”

            It’s because they’re kissing, Koujaku is certain. Kissing is strange to him: the women he’s been with are sometimes gentle, sometimes passionate, but it always feels warm and pleasant; with Noiz it used to only be harsh and forceful, sometimes angry, but lately it’s been getting calmer and lighter, and now they’re simply making out on Koujaku’s bed, as if they’re a couple in love. In some ways, Koujaku supposes they _are_ a couple; they’re not monogamous and they’re not boyfriends, but he’s had more sex with Noiz than he has some girlfriends in his past. He knows Noiz. He knows he has to press his nails into his flesh and roughhouse, he knows he has to thrust into him so hard that he fears he might break the bed. He knows Noiz better than he did some of his girlfriends. Yet he realizes he doesn’t know Noiz at all.

            Noiz stares at him when he says it, as if he’s trying to figure something out. Koujaku can see the gears grinding in his head until he shakes it slightly and sighs.

            “You really are an idiot,” he says, pushing him down gently against the sheets and straddling his waist.

            “What do you mean?”

            “You’re not coming back to me,” he tells him. “At least, it’s not just you.”

            “I’m confused,” Koujaku shrugs.

            “Of course you are,” Noiz says with a smirk. “What I’m saying is that – ” he pauses, but never looks away, “I keep coming back to _you_.”

            Koujaku raises his eyebrows. That was shocking. He never expected to hear that, even if it were true. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Noiz continues:

            “Which is _stupid_ , because you’ve changed. You used to throw me against walls and fuck me like you wanted to make me cry. That’s what I want.”

            “Why?” Koujaku asks frantically, his voice much lighter than he expected. He doesn’t even care if it’s because he has feelings for Noiz or if it’s just simple curiosity anymore, he just wants to know. Noiz apparently doesn’t feel like telling him, though.

            “Shut up,” he says, leaning down and biting his bottom lip. He trails his mouth down his chin and neck and chest. “I need you to stop being nice to me. I don’t want to like that.”

            Noiz leaves hickeys down Koujaku’s torso and then asks Koujaku what he wants to do tonight. Koujaku wants to know what Noiz will do if he says he wants to just cuddle with him. Noiz scowls, ties him to the bedframe, and rides him all night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if updates stop coming weekly i'm so fucking sorry i 'm trying to sort some shit out irl i hope this fic doesnt start fucking sucking


	8. things we lost in the fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ticket stubs and your diaries: i read them all one day, when loneliness came and you were away. oh they told me nothing new, but i love to read the words you used

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [noiz's poem is this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C_DF2AAKpKA), because i can't write poetry for my FUCKING LIFE
> 
> mizunoiz has fucked me up i went into second person like 8 times writing this fuck i hope i caught them all

            Every now and then, Noiz gets so worn out during sex that he simply collapses onto Koujaku and hardly moves for the next forty-five minutes. That’s the only thing the two do that remotely resembles cuddling: Noiz is just so God damn lazy he won’t get the fuck off.

            And Koujaku hardly thinks about it anymore. There’s nothing strange or out of place about Noiz spending the night at his apartment, or Noiz making coffee in the morning. Sex, which is something that Koujaku thinks he can justly say is nothing new to him, has completely revolutionized his life. He’s not nearly as angry with Noiz when he knows that if he steps out of line he can simply take him home and fuck him into the mattress afterwards. The only thing that seems bizarre to him now is that – he doesn’t want to.

            When Noiz nudges Aoba at lunch, when he questions Koujaku’s virility in front of women he’s trying to take home, when he snickers out of the corner of his mouth in front of Beni Shigure after a particularly rough fight: Koujaku doesn’t get angry anymore. Of course, he’ll scowl or yell or throw an insult or two, but it’s just for show. It’s not like that day in the alley, when he almost lost his cool. He’s not scared of accidentally going berserk just because of Noiz anymore. He doesn’t know why. All he knows is that he’s felt more and more nostalgic every time he sees him.

            He thinks about Platinum Jail, and how he was stuck with the kid for almost seven hours hiding out in the alleyway from the police before they made it back to Tae. He remembers how Noiz, for the most part, resigned himself to Mink’s company during the majority of that day. When Koujaku ran to Aoba after the tower fell, Noiz stepped to the side. It was no surprise that Mink kept himself secluded and eventually disappeared forever; he seemed to have his own priorities and they must have been satisfied that day. But Noiz kept to the peripherals and now that there isn’t an entire building crumbling to dust around them, Koujaku recalls it. Koujaku noticed. He noticed then. He just didn’t have the capacity to worry.

            He wonders where that capacity came from suddenly. He wonders why he worries.

            “Do you remember Platinum Jail?” he asks one night, Noiz’s face buried in his chest. They’re both completely naked, red-faced, and sweating, and Noiz is probably going to try to instigate a round three if Koujaku doesn’t fall asleep before that. He lifts his head up, still panting, and raises an eyebrow at Koujaku.

            “Yeah,” he nods. “I remember Platinum Jail. Kind of hard to forget.”

            “Yeah, I know,” Koujaku replies. He looks him in the eyes for a couple seconds in hesitation before he says, “It’s weird, isn’t it? So much happened that day.”

            Noiz frowns with exaggeration and takes a deep breath before he rolls off Koujaku, but he doesn’t get out of the bed. He wipes his forehead off on a pillow and Koujaku rolls his eyes, noting not to use that pillowcase tonight. Then he shakes his head quickly and turns to him.

            “Why are you bringing that up now?” he asks. “Feeling romantic?”

            “Hardly,” Koujaku scoffs. “It’s just strange. Toue was horrible for this island. But without Toue around….”

            He debates continuing. But Noiz cocks his head to the side in curiosity and Koujaku feels compelled to finish.

            “Without Toue around, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

            He didn’t mean it romantically, he just meant – isn’t it odd? How things end up like that? He wants to tear his eyes away in embarrassment now, but that’ll only make him look worse, so he forces himself to stare at Noiz as the younger boys’ lips curl into a sick smirk and he blinks slowly.

            “And that’s a good thing? That I’m here right now?”

            “Where would you rather be?” Koujaku asks with a slight nod of his head. “You’re the one who always comes over here. You said it yourself.”

            Noiz’s smirk grows wider but he doesn’t respond. He lifts himself up on his arms and Koujaku doesn’t know why it always surprises him that Noiz is so fit and yet still so scrawny. He’s seen him naked more often than clothed lately. Noiz leans over and presses his lips to Koujaku’s, and it’s not exactly soft, but it’s not gruff or aggressive either and Koujaku isn’t sure what to make of this kiss. When Noiz pulls off, Koujaku looks at the boy in what he can only think is submission, and he flutters his eyelashes at Koujaku before he starts to flop back onto him.

            “Without Toue,” he drawls, pinching the skin on Koujaku’s hips as he straddles his waist, “we wouldn’t be going on – round three.”

            Koujaku groans – and can’t help but smile a bit.

            “And if I say I’m too tired you’ll call me a grandpa, I assume?”

            “Sure will, old man,” he says, leaning down to kiss him again as he starts to rub his ass against Koujaku’s dick. Koujaku moans from the back of his throat as he starts to get hard again and Noiz whispers, “If only to get you to stop being so damn precious. We’re not holding hands.”

            He’s right. They’re not holding hands. They don’t go on dates and he’s not Koujaku’s boyfriend, so no matter what happened at Platinum Jail, Koujaku doesn’t need to get that emotional with him. But that doesn’t change the fact that Platinum Jail was something that Koujaku can’t even share with Mizuki. Platinum Jail was a _big fucking deal_ , maybe one of the most important events of Koujaku’s life, if not _the_ most, and there’s no denying that he shared it with Noiz. That matters a lot to him, because the other momentous occasions of his life don’t make him feel quite as heroic as Platinum Jail does, and sharing that nostalgia with someone else who was there helps him block out the one part of that day that doesn’t fill him with quite so much pride.

            He can’t tell if it’s waning yet, the pain of seeing Aoba rest his head on Ren’s shoulder, or Ren planting a kiss on Aoba’s forehead. The ache is still there – but it’s always been an ache; a dull, pounding throb in his chest. And it was so easy to not admit to himself that he loved Aoba before he started to feel confused about someone else.

            It’s not that he loves Noiz – and he certainly doesn’t feel about him the way he feels about Aoba – but he’s just as confused about him as he was about Aoba and somehow that provides a sort of clarity about his best friend. Yes, he was – and is – in love with Aoba. And it’s not that he’s fallen out of love, but where he once felt it was completely hopeless that he might ever get over him, now he feels like it’s possible. There’s a _chance_ he could, one day, just be Aoba’s best friend again, and find someone new.

            Not that that new person would _ever_ be Noiz, but he won’t deny – to himself – that it’s Noiz that brought about the epiphany.

            That’s why he brings it up again, this time at Noiz’s house – he just can’t help himself. He did his best to deep throat Noiz but he wasn’t great at it. He’d never admit that to Noiz, but he knows it wasn’t exactly the same level as the bathroom stall in Black Needle and he’s sort of hoping he’ll get another chance to prove himself – or maybe a few more. He guesses he’ll need to practice.

            But Noiz isn’t complaining. It was Koujaku’s first blowjob, and he never realized there was so much teeth involved. Then again, Noiz is that kind of guy. He forced Koujaku’s jaw closed, demanded that he scrape the back of his front teeth as hard as he could against the head, pull on his piercings, squeeze his thighs so tight Koujaku thought he make break the skin with his nails – Noiz was bizarre. And now Noiz is sitting back on his bed pillows, his mouth slightly agape and his eyes quivering open and closed as small, satisfied moans escape his lips. Koujaku wipes the corner of his lips. That still does not taste great and he’ll probably never get used to that, but the act itself wasn’t quite as bad as he thought.

            “That was your first blowjob?” Noiz asks. Koujaku nods as he sticks the tip of his pointer into his mouth and licks it clean. Noiz’s eyes roll into the back of his head. “That was awesome.”

            Koujaku snorts and reclines on the foot of the bed. Noiz’s almost childlike beside manners will always amuse him. He’s about to ask for some water when Noiz sits up and pulls his pants all the way down, shaking them off over the side of the bed.

            “I’m going to take a shower,” he says. “Want to come with me?”

            “I need water first.”

            “Well, good thing I’m going to a _shower_. Which sprays water.”

            Koujaku rolls his eyes.

            “I’m getting a glass of water,” he says, and then he lifts himself off the bed and pads barefoot out of Noiz’s room and to his kitchen. It’s a little unnerving that he knows where everything is in Noiz’s apartment, but he tries not to think about it as he takes a glass out of the left cabinet above the sink and pours it full of water from Noiz’s too-fancy pitcher in his refrigerator. His entire kitchen – no, his entire apartment – is _too_ fancy. There’s no need for one person to have this much space and this much flash, but as he’s downing the water over his Noiz’s counter, he suddenly realizes just how _bare_ it is. It’s not that everything is just in its place – it’s that there isn’t much to be put in a place.

            He wanders back into Noiz’s bedroom, hyperaware now that the hallway leading to it is inexplicably bare – no pictures, no art, no anything. Not even pictures of family. He doesn’t have pictures of family up in his place either, and he wonders if there’s really only one reason why people don’t put pictures of their families up: because it’s too difficult to be reminded of them.

            He hears Noiz’s shower running when he re-enters the room and he scans the space for _anything_. He can’t believe he never realized just how empty everything was. But then he spots it – there’s a box sticking out from under the bed.

            Okay. So it’s probably not ethical to go through Noiz’s things while he’s in the shower. Koujaku is aware of that. But the box is calling to him, practically _screaming_ at him, and he’s pretty sure it’s saying, “ _Open me. Think of all the times Noiz invaded your space. Open me. Open me like you open Noiz – ”_

            Right – he hasn’t gotten off yet today. He’d like to do that. Soon. But the curiosity is getting to him more than his own dick is, and he rushes the bed, sliding to his knees and he pulls the shoebox out and opens it –

            It’s just paper. Notebook paper with almost indecipherable scrawling on it. He sifts through it all but it’s all the same. He picks up a small stack of it and unfolds one piece and tries to make it out. At first he thinks it’s a sort of journal entry, but the more he focuses on the words, the more he comes to realize that it’s – _poetry_.

            Did Noiz write this? Koujaku tries to override his initial instinct to gut laugh and pocket it to embarrass him with later – though he might still do the second part – and instead sits up on his knees and flattens one piece out against the bed so he can get a better look.

 

            _These are the things we lost in the fire._

_I was the match and you were the rock,_

_Maybe we started this fire._

_We sat apart and watched_

_All we had burned on the pyre ––_

            Koujaku sits back and cocks his head to the side. That actually wasn’t that bad. There’s no date on the paper but it looks old and yellowed, so Koujaku figures it’s old. He was expecting something much worse.

            He puts it back in the box but as he shifts everything to the side to find one more piece, he feels something tougher, like a harder piece of paper and that’s when he finds the photograph.

            It’s extremely good quality and at first Koujaku laughs because Noiz has a fucking selfie in this box of his teenage poetry. But then Koujaku realizes this person has deep brown – almost black – eyes and it’s definitely not Noiz. The person in the photo also has light freckles across the bridge of his nose and upper cheeks, but otherwise he’s indistinguishable from the boy taking a shower one room over from Koujaku right now. He’s in a button up and a sweater vest, there might be a tie, but the picture cuts off around his chest, and he’s smiling. Brightly. He looks genuinely overjoyed to be the subject of this picture and it dawns on Koujaku that Noiz was probably the one holding the camera.

            They’re obviously related, and Koujaku can’t imagine he’d be anyone but Noiz’s brother – whether older or younger though, he can’t tell. Koujaku tries to put it all together: the bare apartment, the poetry, the lack of family photos save this one, tucked desperately under the bed among scraps of paper. The self-loathing, the sex, the immaturity. The absolute refusal to connect with Koujaku on any level other than public blowjobs and teeth-shattering punches.

            He doesn’t realize the shower has stopped running until it’s too late.

            “What are you doing?”

            Koujaku isn’t even startled. He lowers the picture into his lap and twists his torso around to look at Noiz from over his shoulder. The two lock eyes for a moment – Noiz is wearing nothing but a towel around his waist and fuck does he look good. His hair is wet and dripping down his shoulders, but he obviously shook it out already as it sticks up in almost every direction. He looks so, _so_ good and Koujaku wishes he hadn’t gotten caught red-handed because he’s fairly sure he’s not getting off today now – at least, not here – but he also has to know.

            “Who’s this?”

            Noiz stares at him as he slowly holds up the picture and he narrows his eyes at the photo. At first, Koujaku thinks he’s going to react violently, but suddenly, a smile spreads across his face and he reaches out, gesturing for it. Koujaku stands and walks to him, hands the photo to him, and he studies it for a few seconds.

            “This is my little brother,” he says. “Emmerich.”

            “Did you take the picture?”

            “Yeah.”

            “You never mentioned a little brother.”

            He looks up at Koujaku with squinted eyes.

            “I didn’t know it ever mattered,” he says. “Do you have any siblings?”

            “No,” Koujaku shakes his head. “He looks exactly like you.”

            “Yeah,” he nods. “He does.”

            Noiz falls silent and Koujaku is shocked that he hasn’t been knocked out or run out of the apartment already so he wonders if he should risk it. He gives Noiz a moment with the photo, as it looks like it means a lot to him, but then he steps aside and points at the box.

            “Did you write all that?”

            Noiz’s eyes travel from the photo to the box of paper and he again takes a few seconds to answer.

            “Yeah,” he says. “When I was a lot younger.”

            “How old were you?”

            “Mm,” he hums as he mulls it over. “Between thirteen and eighteen, I guess.”

            “Really?” Koujaku asks. “What about the one about the fire? When did you write that one?”

            Maybe that was too much. Maybe he shouldn’t have admitted that he’d actually read anything, but he can’t believe that a thirteen-year-old Noiz would have written something _that_ good. But Noiz doesn’t even flinch. He shrugs one shoulder and considers it.

            “The one… ‘these are the things we lost in the fire?’”

            “Yeah.”

            “Probably sixteen.”

            “No way,” Koujaku shakes his head. “I don’t believe you.”

            “Why not?”

            “Because that – because…” Koujaku trails off because he doesn’t really want to admit it, but he supposes he’s in a bit of a fragile spot right now, so a compliment probably wouldn’t hurt. “It wasn’t bad.”

            “It shouldn’t be,” Noiz says. “I wrote almost every day.”

            “So you’re a writer?”

            “No,” Noiz shakes his head. “I just read a lot of poetry my whole life. I read it and I studied it and I started writing it very young. I made all the beginner’s mistakes early. I had nothing but time.”

            “What do you mean?”

            Noiz looks away, like he’s considering something again, but this time he doesn’t answer. He looks back to Koujaku and stares at him hard enough to make it clear that his silence is uncompromising. Koujaku sighs.

            “Well, what’s it about?”

            He smiles.

            “Are you serious?”

            “I mean, you already know I read it,” he says. “You may as well tell me what it’s about.”

            “That’s not what I meant, dumbass,” Noiz rolls his eyes. “I meant – you really don’t know what it’s about?”

            “No!” Koujaku shrugs. “Why would I know?”

            Noiz laughs out his nose and his hands drop to his sides. Then he picks one back up – the one holding the photo.

            “Him,” he says quietly. His face is smiling, his eyebrows are raised and he looks like he’s trying to make light of everything, but his voice betrays him. It cracks. It’s high. He’s trying to keep it together. “They’re all about him.”

            Koujaku’s mouth parts slowly and stares at Noiz for what feels like forever. It’s like Noiz is trying to hold back tears, but Koujaku doesn’t see any so he can’t be sure. He finally leans in and takes the photo from him gingerly and walks back to the bed to put it back in the box and then he slides the box back under the bed and stands up. Noiz is still behind him and Koujaku doesn’t know if he can face him. The air is so heavy but it’s not awkward and Koujaku isn’t worried that Noiz hates him, it’s just tense and Koujaku is trying to piece things together still when Noiz clears his throat.

            “Remember Platinum Jail?”

            Koujaku doesn’t turn around.

            “Yeah,” he says weakly.

            “It didn’t mean a lot to me because I didn’t have anything to lose,” Noiz says, having found his voice. It’s back to normal, not at all like he might cry. “I’ve always had nothing.”

            “I don’t understand what you mean,” Koujaku shakes his head. “I can’t understand what that means.”

            “You’re alone,” Noiz says and Koujaku isn’t even offended. He can tell he’s not talking about Aoba. “Have you always been like m – have you always been alone?”

            Koujaku licks his bottom lip and can’t bring himself to look anywhere but the floor. It’s so clean. It’s immaculate.

            “I had a lot,” he says. “I lost it.”

            “Huh,” Noiz grunts. Koujaku can feel him approach him slowly from behind. “I guess we’re not as alike as you thought.”

            Koujaku finally turns to around to face him when he can practically feel his breath on his neck and he stares down at the younger boy.

            “It’s my fault,” he tells him suddenly. “I lost it because I destroyed it.”

            “Oh,” Noiz nods. Koujaku doesn’t expect it whatsoever when he says, “Maybe we are, then.”

            “What do you mean?”

            Noiz bites down hard on his teeth and Koujaku watches his jaw muscles work back and forth as he thinks.

            “We didn’t accomplish anything,” he says. “Platinum Jail. The tower. This island is better. But we’re still fucked up.”

            “Fucked up?” Koujaku repeats. “You’re fucked up? How?”

            “How are _you_ fucked up?”

            “I’m not fucked up.”

            “Yeah right,” Noiz says with a sharp nod. “You destroyed everything you had? That fucks a person up. I know that firsthand.”

            “How?”

            “You first.”

            “ _I don’t know what you’re talking about, Noiz_ ,” Koujaku insists and it’s gotten so easy. It’s so easy for Koujaku to convince himself that he really doesn’t. The doors to the rooms are safely shut and they’re not budging.

            “I think you do,” Noiz says. “I think you have stuff you want to say. And you can say it to me because I’m just as fucked up as you.”

            “I’m not fucked up,” Koujaku says slowly, “but if you have something you need to talk about – you – you can say it. It’s okay.”

            Noiz tilts his head up and narrows his eyes, folds his arms and studies Koujaku for several seconds before he growls:

            “ _Fuck off.”_ Then he turns back toward his bathroom. “You’re not pulling shit out of me.” He drops his towel on the way in and calls over his shoulder, “You know the way out.”

            “What did I do?” Koujaku asks and Noiz throws him the middle finger before he slams the door shut. Koujaku is about to go when Noiz shouts:

            “You use too much teeth and not enough spit! Rub the head around your lips like it’s lip balm next time.”

           Koujaku leaves in a daze and he can’t get anything that just happened out of his head (it sure sounded like Noiz wanted the teeth at the time). And everyone can tell. He’s distracted and daydreaming constantly; almost all of Beni Shigure notices it, especially Kou and Hagima. When Mizuki finally asks him what’s wrong, he can hardly speak, and Mizuki, being his best friend, answers for him.

            “Noiz?”

            “He just – ”

            “Grates on you?”

            “No,” Koujaku says breathlessly, looking up at him and almost reaching out to grab his hand across the bar. “He’s just – I mean… sure. Yeah. Yeah, he grates on me.”

            “Did you know,” Mizuki says with a crook of his head, “that _I_ am not only one of your best friends, but I am _also_ not fucking stupid?”

            Koujaku furrows his brows.

            “What’s that mean?”

            “I can tell that things have changed,” he says, his voice low and almost – sultry? “Are you two, dare I say, _friends_?”

            Oh. That’s not bad. He actually wouldn’t mind if people called them friends. Not because they _are_ , but because it’s a hell of a lot better than “fuck buddies.”

            “Not really,” he sighs. “But something’s wrong with him.”

            “Something’s wrong with all of us,” Mizuki shrugs. “We just have to decide who’s worth trying to help and who isn’t, I guess.”

            Koujaku wishes it were that easy. Of course, with angels on Earth like Mizuki or Aoba or even Ren, it’s easy for him to want to help. But he doesn’t know if he wants to help Noiz, because it’s hard to tell if it’s worth trying to get him to open up. And he’s so Hell-bent that Koujaku open up too and there’s no way that’s happening. His rooms are shut so tight right now that he can hardly acknowledge they still exist.

            But Mizuki’s kind eyes get to him, like they always do.

            “You’d talk to him if you knew something was wrong?”

            Mizuki nods slowly, his eyes closing and a small smile spreading on his lips.

            “He’s just – not a bad kid,” Mizuki shrugs. “He’s gotten better since you’ve started being civil. He’s obviously an alright guy.”

            Koujaku sighs and it’s two more days of his thoughts running in circles, muddying themselves within his own confusion before he runs into Noiz and a good amount of Ruff Rabbit guys on the street. His heart starts racing and his first reaction is to grab him and pull him to the alleyway to talk, but then he remembers he has a few Beni Shigure members behind him too – and then he realizes just how dangerous this is.

            “How you doing, babe?” Noiz smirks, his head drooping slowly onto his shoulder and Koujaku raises his eyebrows.

            “That’s hilarious,” he deadpans. “Can we talk?”

            Noiz jerks his head back to the center and Koujaku can feel a body behind him. It’s Kou – and the rest of Beni Shigure around him. Koujaku watches Ruff Rabbit advance behind Noiz just like his own gang, and he takes a deep breath before holding his hands up in surrender.

            “It’s just like that day,” Noiz smirks. “Only we never got to have that fight.”

            “I don’t want to fight,” Koujaku shakes his head. He hears a small murmur behind him and he holds a hand out, bracing the people behind him from advancing, hoping that makes it clear that he’s deadly serious. “I just want to talk.”

            Noiz nods slowly, studying Koujaku first, then Beni Shigure, then shoving his hands in his pockets and turning to the side to look at Ruff Rabbit. Ruff Rabbit looks like a group of relatively unassuming men, and Koujaku is nervous that Beni Shigure would demolish them. They’re not used to street fights. They wouldn’t be able to take on his guys, and Koujaku doesn’t want them to. They’re pretty evenly matched in number, but that speaks nothing to their body mass versus Beni Shigure’s and Koujaku’s heart starts to race as Noiz turns back to him.

            “I don’t want to talk,” Noiz says and the next thing Koujaku sees is black. Noiz’s wrapped knuckles connect with his nose and his head flies back and he hasn’t felt like this in months. Noiz being rough usually meant ripping a groan from the back of his throat with a harsh kiss or riding him so hard that he forced an orgasm within minutes – Koujaku remembers this feeling. This taste of copper in his mouth. This dizziness of opening his eyes to find himself staring at the ground. This confusion. Did Noiz just punch him?

            Koujaku assumes Kou or Hagima went for Noiz immediately, but in these cases, they usually leave leaders to each other and focuse on wiping out the other team members, so Koujaku isn’t surprised when he suddenly feels Noiz’s familiar weight on his waist as he leans down to straddle him. Koujaku opens his eyes to look at the younger boy, who’s breathing heavily already and Koujaku brings his hands to his nose.

            “I think you broke it,” he moans. The pain is dissipating already, which is never good. Is he going into shock?

            “I didn’t break it, old man,” Noiz mutters, pulling him upwards by the collar of his kimono and bringing their faces within inches of each other. “Let’s finally have our fight.”

            “No,” Koujaku shakes his head again. “I don’t – I don’t want to fight you, Noiz.”

            “Fucking fight me!” Noiz bellows and Koujaku is breathless. He’s _never_ heard Noiz yell like that before. He’s barely heard above a satisfied groan come out of his mouth.

            “I’m not going to fight you,” he tells him, and then the back of his head connects with the ground again and Noiz’s fist rocks his face with pain.

            “ _Fight me!”_ he shouts again, and Koujaku reaches up to grab his nose again but Noiz takes his hands and pins them above his head. Koujaku vaguely wonders how sexual this looks before he realizes everyone is probably too distracted to notice.

            “I’m not going to fight you,” he repeats, and he can barely breathe by the third punch. By the fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh punch, he’s wheezing on the ground and he can hear Noiz sniffling. Crying. This is bizarre. He’s light headed and probably going to pass out, but he can register that this is bizarre.

            “Why won’t you fucking fight?” Noiz stutters, and Koujaku finally has a moment to take in a full breath to fill his lungs and turn his bloodied head to look at Noiz. He’s not bawling, but there are a few water stains on his cheeks and his eyes are pink, pricked with the pins of tears. He’s gasping for air too, which is strange, because he’s hardly even done anything. And this is why Koujaku doesn’t want to fight.

            “I don’t want to hurt you.”

            Noiz sucks his bottom lip in for a second before his face turns angry, a dark scowl and the tears are gone now.

            “ _You can’t hurt me,”_ he says, bringing his arm down and delivering a punch to Koujaku’s gut. Koujaku groans and reaches up to curl in on himself, putting his hands around Noiz’s shoulders, not unlike how Noiz does when he’s fucking him into the mattress some nights. Then he feels Noiz’s lips by his ears and he whispers, _“I can’t feel you.”_

Koujaku has little to no idea what that means. He lets go of Noiz’s shoulders and falls onto his back again, knocking the wind out of his lungs but recovering quickly. Both of them are panting heavily. Noiz plants his fists into the ground on either side of Koujaku’s body and hangs over him. His breath smells like blood and mint.

            “What are you talking about?”

            Noiz swallows audibly before he says:

            “I can’t feel anything. Pain. Sex. You. I literally can not feel you.”

            Koujaku furrows his eyebrows. Literally? What does he mean? Is he one of those people that use the word ‘literally’ wrong?

            “Literally?” Koujaku asks.

            “Literally,” Noiz growls, reaching up and pinching his own cheek. “I can’t feel it. So just fucking punch me. Hard. As hard as you can. Hard enough so I can even _kind of_ feel it.”

            Holy shit. This is completely foreign to Koujaku. And it’s all suddenly clicking into place – well, maybe not _all_ of it, but it certainly explains the rough sex and the indulgent fighting and the – the _provocations_ , fuck, it all makes so much sense. He’s been trying to get Koujaku to do something – anything – hard enough for him to actually feel it.

            And suddenly Koujaku can’t do that anymore.

            He shakes his head and presses his lips together to gather as much spit as he can to swallow. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes slowly, then opens them and focuses on Noiz’s eyes, bright green and wanting and fuming.

            “I don’t want to do that,” he tells him. “Let me help you.”

            “What the _fuck is your problem!”_ Noiz shouts abruptly, grabbing him by the neck of his kimono again and shaking him roughly against the ground. “ _Stop being so fucking romantic and hit me again!”_

“It’s not romance!” Koujaku shouts, coiling his fingers around Noiz’s wrists but not trying to push him off. “I just don’t want to hurt you!”

            “Why _not?”_ Noiz yells. “What do you I have to do? Remind you that Aoba will never love you? Insult your mother? Tell you your father never loved you?”

            “Don’t – ” Koujaku tries to warn, but his voice gets caught in his throat. This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. How did he hit every single one of those things right on the head? How did he know exactly what to say?

            “Does that make you want to punch me?” Noiz shakes him again. “Punch me! _Punch me!”_

“ _No!”_ Koujaku resists finally, and Noiz throws him down to the gravel. He stands up and lands one more kick to his ribs and as Koujaku cries out and curls to the side, Noiz spits on the ground next to him.

            “You’re fucking useless,” he mutters.

            And then he walks away.

            Koujaku wishes he could pass out. He wishes he’d close his eyes and wake up with Aoba hovering over him, a hand carding lazily through his hair; getting all patched up and being taken care of, but he doesn’t. Now that it’s all said and done, Noiz didn’t beat him up that bad. He’s had far worse Rib fights and that’s all this really was. A gang fight. His eyes flutter open and closed as he watches the back of Noiz’s boots shuffle away and all he can do is lay there as he catches his breath and then prop himself up against the brick wall, one hand touching his tender nose – it’s probably not broken, actually – and another rubbing his bruised ribs. That sure hurt a lot more in the moment than it does now, and he wonders if it wasn’t physical pain he was feeling.

            He’s able to hobble back with Beni Shigure and Mizuki immediately carts him home and cleans him up. That’s the routine. Koujaku and Noiz fight, Mizuki cleans him up.

            “What happened?” Mizuki asks softly. He’s not blaming him this time. Koujaku presses the pad of his thumb to the inside of his eye and presses hard to soak up a single tear.

            “I didn’t want to hit back,” he shrugs, and Mizuki leans over and wraps his arms around his shoulders in a small hug. The sting of the rubbing alcohol seeping into every tiny, little cut around his nose that he didn’t know he had is nothing compared to the look in Noiz’s eyes when he called him useless. It was like he knew the feeling himself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [(ツ)](http://i339.photobucket.com/albums/n450/shes_sew_cute/jim14.gif)


	9. heart's a mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it makes no sense but i'm desperate to connect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> had to proofread this on my own which is really hard bc of my reading disorder so if you see any glaring errors dont be nervous to let me know, for real

            It’s been a week since his fight with Noiz, and it turns out that Koujaku isn’t as damaged as he thought.

            His hands are fine this time, and it’s usually the wrapped fingers that give him the most trouble after a fight, but since he didn’t throw any punches in retaliation, his hands are nothing more than a little cut up. His nose isn’t broken either, like he originally thought, but it is a bit swollen. He has a black eye and several tiny cuts along the bridge of his nose but otherwise he’s okay. Even his ribs endured, which is surprising because as he recalls, Noiz kicked them fairly hard.

            Then again, Koujaku is starting to realize that it all hurt a lot more when it was happening. He _thought_ he’d broken his nose, he _thought_ he’d cracked his ribs; he can’t deny how much it hurt in the moment. He’s not making that up. But there’s something too romantic about admitting that the pain of being punched was magnified by the person who was doing the punching, but there it is.

            If it had been any other Rib fight, he would have laid Noiz out. It’s not that Noiz is weak by any means – in fact, though Koujaku is bigger and stronger, they’re fairly evenly matched, now that he thinks about it. Noiz is scrappy. He might have less muscle, but there’s no doubt that he’s quicker and more agile than Koujaku. But if Koujaku had been fighting back, he would have only needed to land a few hits to equalize Noiz, and he’d be shrugging off the bruises like they were nothing. Not that he got bruised often, but it did come with the territory of heading a Rib team.

            But the reason this hurt so much was because it was Noiz. It was the boy who, just a few days earlier, was almost in tears about a picture of his brother, was proud of his teenage poetry, was secure enough with Koujaku to be vulnerable around him. Maybe, Koujaku now realizes, Noiz was never being vulnerable. _He_ was being vulnerable. _Koujaku_ was vulnerable, and he was hoping Noiz felt the same way.

            And it’s still so inexplicable, thinking back on it, how it all started. It happened so quick and even though no one is surprised that Koujaku and Noiz finally had it out properly, there are whispers of the Rib versus Rhyme fight, how Rib basically won but the leader got his ass handed to him by some kid. Koujaku isn’t embarrassed. Maybe a year ago, he would have been. But a year ago, he would have fought back. A year ago, he didn’t know Noiz. And he didn’t care about Noiz. And he would have fought back.

            He replays Noiz’s angry tears in his head – wait, was he crying, actually? Koujaku doesn’t truly remember. He seems to think there were tears. But it doesn’t matter really; what Koujaku hears over and over again is Noiz’s daunting admission, _“I can’t feel anything; punch me, hard enough so I can even_ kind of _feel it,”_ and he still doesn’t know what to do with that. He didn’t believe him at first, and a part of him still doesn’t, but that’s mostly because he also doesn’t understand it. He can’t _feel?_ He simply can’t feel the touch of another person?

            He asks Mizuki if that’s possible. If it’s realistic that someone could have no sense of touch. Mizuki furrows his brow and looks up at the ceiling. He says he’s heard of stuff like that before – a degenerative nerve disease, or something – but he’s not sure if it’s real or just on TV. Then he asks why and Koujaku shrugs and goes back to the movie they’re watching. (Mizuki is taking care of him the way he took care of Mizuki, even though he doesn’t need it whatsoever – but something tells him Mizuki is more concerned about his mental state right now rather than his physical, and Koujaku is extremely grateful that he doesn’t mention it.)

            In the end, what really convinces Koujaku that Noiz must be telling the truth is remembering the fingernails and the teeth that he forced into his cock when they had sex. He always called Noiz a freak for that, and now he feels something sink to the bottom of his stomach when he thinks about it. It’s sort of the same dull ache that he feels in his chest about Aoba.

            He still can’t say he completely regrets it, because Noiz _did_ antagonize him. And Noiz _was_ legitimately unbearable. But he supposes hindsight is always a fucker and isn’t that always how it goes? You never know what battles other people are fighting, or something like that?

            One thing that still nags at him, that he can’t make _any_ sense of whatsoever, is Emmerich. Not being able to feel doesn’t tell Koujaku anything about why Noiz’s little brother makes him so uncharacteristically happy, or why he writes poetry about him. Of course, Koujaku’s first hypothesis is that he’s dead, but Koujaku knows the dead family member routine, and if Emmerich was dead due to anything other than Noiz’s own hand, he’d have more than one picture of him. And if it had been through any fault of Noiz’s, he wouldn’t even have the one. Koujaku supposes it could be different for everyone, but something tells him Emmerich is very much alive.

            All he can gather is that Noiz has a strained relationship with his family – he’s never mentioned his parents, and Koujaku has never seen a single photograph of them. He assumes Emmerich is his only sibling, and it makes it all the more curious that he has a picture of him and not his mother or father. Then again, the closest thing Koujaku’s ever had to a sibling was Aoba, so he’s not exactly sure how blood relations work. Maybe Noiz and Emmerich are orphans, like Mizuki. Maybe they never knew their parents. But then, wouldn’t they have adoptive parents? Where are they? Come to think of it, where is Emmerich? Koujaku knows that Noiz isn’t Japanese – he’s Western, obviously, but Koujaku’s not exactly sure where he’s from. Maybe Emmerich is back home.

            Something tugs at Koujaku’s chest when he realizes Midorijima is not Noiz’s home. Noiz is just nineteen – twenty, really, now, he supposes, but still a child as far as Koujaku is concerned. He’s never felt particularly emotional about Noiz, but –

            Koujaku shakes his head to himself as he’s alone in bed, shirtless, too warm to cover himself with the blanket. It piles at his knees as he hangs his head into his hands and rubs at his temples with his fingers. Of course he’s felt emotional about Noiz. He’s just never been able to figure out what that emotion is. And that’s why he is where he is right now. In bed, alone, with a black eye and a heavy heart.

            He laughs at himself – _“heavy heart.”_ That sounds so overdramatic. He curls to the side and turns off the lamp, throwing the room into almost darkness, save for the streetlight outside. He’s always left his bay window curtains open at night so that the streetlight can shine in. Mizuki is the only person who knows he gets a bit nervous in the dark alone. And the way the light drips calmly into the room reminds him of the nightlight that his mother gave him growing up.

            Mizuki takes his time bringing up the fight. He must think Koujaku has to find the right headspace before he can discuss it, but that’s really not necessary. It should have been like any other fight. Koujaku is focused on it, but it really doesn’t bother him that Noiz beat him up.

            “I just feel like it might be my fault,” Mizuki says finally, putting his coffee cup down lightly on Koujaku’s kitchen table. Koujaku frowns at him and follows suit with his own coffee cup.

            “How do you figure that?”

            “I’m the one who told you to talk to him,” he shrugs. “Maybe I didn’t have him as figured out as I thought I did.”

            “No,” Koujaku says softly as he shakes his head. “I think you did. I think it’s _him_ who doesn’t have himself figured out.”

            Koujaku isn’t entirely sure what that means, but it sure sounds good. Mizuki watches him though, as if he’s aware that it’s a complete bullshit line, and Koujaku sighs.

            “If that’s true,” Mizuki says, “then he’s probably in good company.”

            Koujaku isn’t entirely sure what that means, but it doesn’t sound good.

            He lets the conversation drop off and they finish their coffee in silence. He doesn’t see Mizuki again until two days later, when he calls him up and insists that he come to Black Needle right away. Koujaku is confused at first, but as he picks up his hairdressing supplies, he starts to wonder if Noiz is there. He can’t imagine any other reason why Mizuki would call – but he also can’t imagine why Mizuki would call him for that. Maybe it’s wishful thinking. He tells himself he wants to see Noiz again to repay him for the fight, but that nagging in the back of his head is so much louder lately: that’s not why he wants to see him again.

            He drops his bag of hair supplies at his place and then heads straight for Black Needle. His mind races with all the possibilities of what he’ll do when he gets there and inevitably the blond is standing at the bar, but when he _does_ get there, when the blond _is_ standing at the bar, when he’s next to Noiz, when he’s towering over him, when Noiz is rolling his eyes and staring at Mizuki, when he’s drawling, _“Really? You called him,”_ all Koujaku can do is stare.

            Koujaku is upset. He’s not angry to see him and the sight of his apathetic face doesn’t make him _sad_. It makes him _upset._ It’s confusion, it’s hurt, and it’s almost disappointment – why was Noiz’s first stop _Black Needle_? No one has seen him in over a week and the first person he goes to is _Mizuki?_ Not that Koujaku doesn’t love his best friend, but why would it be _him_ that Noiz chooses to talk to first?

            “Nice eye,” the boy chortles, his gaze fixed on the bar behind Mizuki. Mizuki doesn’t like that.

            “Hey!” he shouts, aggressive and protective, and Mizuki has always rubbed off on Koujaku. He starts to get riled up the more Mizuki shouts at him and the more that Noiz ignores him until he’s finally pulling the shorter boy up by the shoulder and forcing him away from the bar and toward the tattoo parlor. The curtains are shut and it’s past five, so Koujaku assumes Mizuki’s done in there, and Mizuki doesn’t follow after him anyway, so he takes that as a sign that this is okay. They need some _privacy_.

            Noiz doesn’t make a single sound as Koujaku shoves him roughly behind the curtain and into a chair. This is familiar, but it’s not going to end the same way that night did. He’s still not entirely _angry_ , he just wants answers. Of course, the last thing he should have done was throw him down onto the chair. Noiz leans back with a smile.

            “You wanna ride my dick this time?”

            “What are you doing here?”

            Noiz rolls his eyes.

            “Round two?” he shrugs. Koujaku growls from the back of his throat.

            “If you don’t tell me, I’ll just go ask Mizuki,” he says. “And if he tells me you were messing with him, you’ll be done.”

            “Done?” Noiz repeats, raising his eyebrows. “Sounds spooky.”

            Koujaku advances on him but Noiz doesn’t move a muscle. Of course he doesn’t. He’s not scared of Koujaku beating him up, and Koujaku has just realized that. He’s never been scared that Koujaku might beat the shit out of him. He’s always wanted that. And that’s why physical intimidation has never worked.

            Koujaku stops, pauses, stares at Noiz, who is completely unflinching, and then takes a step back to re-evaluate. Noiz nods his head up at him as he stands there thinking.

            “What?” he asks. “You wanna come punch me in my smart little mouth?”

            “You know,” Koujaku says slowly, “it’s pointless to act like there’s nothing wrong. Because I already know. You already told me.”

            Noiz doesn’t answer. Koujaku decides to waste no time.

            “What do you mean you can’t feel?”

            Noiz’s entire body relaxes and he looks away knowingly, like he was expecting this. Koujaku stands back and folds his arms, refusing to say another word until Noiz answers him, which he was expecting to have to wait for, but Noiz turns back to him after just a few seconds, and holds his gaze.

            “I was born,” he says just as slowly as Koujaku, “unable to feel. I can’t feel when another person touches me.”

            Koujaku stays stone still. It’s exactly like it sounds.

            “How do I know you’re not lying?”

            “I made you sink your teeth into my dick and you think I’m lying?”

            “So what is it, a degenerative nerve disease?” Koujaku asks, repeating what Mizuki said a few days ago and completely ignoring Noiz’s retort. Noiz sighs.

            “I don’t know what it is. Doctors could never figure it out.”

            “So you’ve seen a doctor for this?”

            Noiz grins slowly, like he knows something Koujaku doesn’t. And he does. That’s the exact problem here.

            “More than one,” he says.

            “I just – I don’t… I don’t understand how you can’t feel. What do you mean you _can’t feel_?”

            “It’s like there’s a heavy film on my skin,” he says. “If you press hard enough, I can feel something. But I can’t feel anything too light.”

            “What’s too light?”

            “I don’t know,” he shrugs, crossing his feet at the ankles. “Brushing your finger down my skin. Or a hug. Or anything less than digging your nails in. I can’t feel it.”

            “How do you – how do you come, then?” Koujaku asks and he knows it sounds stupid, but he really doesn’t understand. And Noiz doesn’t seem to register it.

            “It’s just dull. I can _feel,_ it’s just hard. And I can taste,” he says, rolling his head to the side. “I can feel food inside my mouth. So…”

            He trails off, and it takes Koujaku a few seconds, but then it clicks.

            “You can feel _inside_ ,” he finishes. Noiz smirks.

            “I can taste better than I can feel your dick in my ass,” he adds, “but that might just be because you have a tiny dick.”

            “Nice,” Koujaku sneers. “That would be a lot more biting if you didn’t come crawling back begging me to fuck you every week.”

            Noiz nods to the side.

            “Sort of an exaggeration but fair enough,” he says. “So, want to do some more biting? If you know what I mean.”

            “I know what you mean, Noiz,” Koujaku rolls his eyes. “I’m not finished. That’s not the only shit that’s eating you up, is it?”

            Noiz’s smirk disappears and is replaced with a scowl. He scoffs and tilts his head back against the head of the chair.

            “The fuck do you care if anything is eating me up?”

            “I know about Emmerich,” Koujaku says. “So just tell me.”

            Noiz sits up straight so sharply that Koujaku almost jumps. He stares Koujaku down intensely, and Koujaku’s eyes falter. He takes a step back.

            “You know, I don’t really give a shit if you know about me,” he says. “I’ll tell you whatever perverted little thing you want to know. But quit acting like you’re so above me.”

            “What the fuck are you talking about?”

            “Quit acting like you’re some well-adjusted little angel,” he says. “I know there’s more to you than Aoba and Ren. And I’m not trying to force it out of you. There’s something dark in you and if that’s where you want to keep it, then fine. I’m not going to try to make you tell.”

            “Cool,” Koujaku says quickly, before he can allow himself time to think about those words. Noiz is probably bluffing anyway. “Then let’s hear it.”

            Noiz sits back with a glare, obviously annoyed that Koujaku called his bluff, but Noiz is far too proud than to admit that. He crosses his arms and then his face falls, his mouth turns into a sad frown and he looks like he might be about to cry.

            “I never wanted to tell anyone,” he says, and his voice cracks so quickly that Koujaku almost rushes to him on instinct. He manages to keep himself still as Noiz continues: “It just – it’s too hard.”

            “You can say it,” Koujaku says, and he’s not sure if it’s because he cares about Noiz’s well-being or if some awful little part of him wants to see Noiz cry.

            “I – Emmerich,” Noiz stutters and looks away. “We… were raised by wolves.”

            Koujaku’s mouth drops open and he’s about to ask him to repeat that when Noiz turns back with a smile and Koujaku feels such an untapped anger swell up inside him that he can’t help but rush the chair – then remembers that’s what Noiz wants.

            And what he has to do right now is not give him what he wants.

            He’s never had to calm himself down this quickly before, but he stops himself before he’s on top of Noiz, strangling him to death, and he closes his eyes to gather himself. Noiz’s snickers don’t help, but when he finally opens his eyes again, he thinks he knows exactly what it might take to get him to open up.

            “You said we were kind of alike,” he reminds him, and Noiz stops laughing. He’s still smiling up at Koujaku, but he’s not laughing. “Didn’t you say that?”

            “I did,” he replies. “You don’t know what it’s like to be loved, do you?”

            “You realize that you’re admitting that you don’t know either, then, right?”

            It seems that no, Noiz did _not_ realize that that was a sort of a confession. He looks away and shrugs.

            “Well, look at me,” he grins wider. “Who could ever love a guy like me, right?”

            “Who didn’t love you?” Koujaku asks. “Emmerich?”

            “Emmerich loves me,” Noiz says quickly, and that’s it. He’s shown his cards – sort of. It’s not that his tone changes at all, but he says it so quickly, so automatically, so convinced that his little brother loves him, that Koujaku can see right through him. Then again, he didn’t exactly make a secret of just how much Emmerich affected him a week and a half ago, but still, it’s nice to see that Noiz has someone he cares about.

            “So who didn’t love you?” Koujaku asks and he watches Noiz take a deep breath and he knows. He knows. He can tell. He knows the feeling. He knows the feeling of his stomach dropping out of his feet as he wonders why his father never loved him. “Noiz,” he insists. “Was it your mom or dad?”

            Noiz’s lips tug upward into a small frown as he looks past Koujaku’s body at the wall. He nods, but he doesn’t look all that upset.

            “They didn’t understand why I kept hurting all the other kids,” he says. “But I didn’t know what pain felt like. I didn’t know I was doing it. I broke my leg. I hurt some kid. I didn’t know. I didn’t know I broke my leg. I didn’t know I hurt the kid. My parents were upper class and I was a freak. I was a liability.”

            Koujaku groans out loud, not because he’s frustrated, but because that’s the most upsetting thing he’s ever heard. It’s genuine. It isn’t Noiz being self-deprecating; it isn’t Noiz trying to goad him into insulting him. Noiz thinks he’s a liability. And maybe he is, Koujaku wouldn’t really know. But hearing the words come out of his mouth hurts for some reason.

            “So,” Koujaku drawls, unsure if he should say it, but at the same time, absolutely positive that it needs to be said. “Did they – beat you?”

            To his surprise, Noiz laughs out his nose and looks up to meet his eyes. Koujaku frowns.

            “Fuck, no,” he says. “They would have never cared that much.”

            “What does that mean?” Koujaku asks. He doesn’t let the memory itself out of its room in the back of his head, but all he really knows is an abusive father and can’t really imagine hateful parents doing anything else.

            “They didn’t want me interacting with anyone, given my _condition_ ,” he says spitefully. “They gave me my own little room. It had everything I needed. A bathroom. A kitchen. A maid brought me food.”

            “A maid?” Koujaku asks.

            “I’m telling you my parents locked me in a room for most of my childhood and you’re focused on the maid?”

            _Shit_. That wasn’t what Koujaku was expecting.

            “They locked you – locked you _away_?” he asks incredulously. “What the fuck?”

            “I’m trying to tell you,” he says, folding his hands over his stomach and resting his head back again. Koujaku is in a near panic. “Don’t interrupt.”

            “Keep going,” Koujaku nods.

            “That’s basically it,” he admits with a shrug. “That’s when I knew no one would take care of me. I had to live on my own.”

            Koujaku is breathing quickly and he’s not sure why. He’s stressed, he’s panicking for Noiz, and he wants to tell him that he _doesn’t_ have to live on his own, but he’s not sure how he’d tell him that. He’d have to back it up. He’d have to tell him that he’d be there for him, and he’s not sure he is. He’s not sure he likes Noiz.

            But he knows for certain now that he doesn’t hate him.

            “That’s – fuck,” Koujaku breathes. He doesn’t know what to say.

            “Like I said, I don’t really care that you know,” Noiz shrugs. “Just don’t act like you can help me.”

            “I _can_ help you – ” Koujaku says without meaning to, but it doesn’t matter.

            “Well, I don’t _need_ you to,” Noiz cuts him off swiftly and then leans forward to pull Koujaku toward him and capture his lips between his own. He kisses him gruffly and then pulls away to say, “I don’t need you to care for my wounds. They’ll heal. They always do. I don’t need you to care about me.”

            “I’m not saying I’m in love with you,” Koujaku whispers. “I’m just saying… someone. Someday. Will be.”

            “How romantic,” Noiz whispers back.

            He pulls Koujaku onto him and there’s not much Koujaku can do other than acquiesce but he’s not sure he really wants to do anything.

            “This is too much,” he shakes his head, his hands on either side of Noiz’s waist and their foreheads touching. “This is too much information to take in and then act like everything’s the same.”

            “Don’t fucking start,” Noiz says, a sudden fire and aggression in his voice that shocks Koujaku for long enough that Noiz is able to push him off and before Koujaku knows it, their positions are switched and Noiz is pawing at the button of his jeans. Koujaku doesn’t know why his body always does this to him. It always betrays him, always gets worked up and hard and wanting when Noiz starts acting like this, and he wants to fuck him, but he can’t get his mind to wrap around what he’s just learned about him.

            “Noiz – ”

            “Do you know what would happen when I was a kid?” Noiz says suddenly, unzipping Koujaku’s jeans and pulling up at his waist. Koujaku sits up briefly for Noiz to pull his jeans down. “Do you know what I did to other people? Do you know what it’s like to not feel pain?”

            “N- _Noiz_ ,” is all Koujaku can manage. He’s got his pants to his knees and he steps off the chair to pull them all the way off and then takes his place on his lap again.

            “I can’t feel it, so I didn’t understand what other people felt,” he says. “I got too rough. I hurt them. Then I got yelled at for hurting them but I didn’t understand. I didn’t know how I was hurting them. And it made me angry. So I started picking fights.”

            It’s such a rush, hearing Noiz say all this as he palms Koujaku through his boxers until he’s so hard he’s straining at the cotton. Maybe it’s the unfortunately romantic part of him that finds this appealing. It’s a morbid sort of closeness, but it’s a closeness. It’s a connection that Koujaku was craving from him. He’s not sure why he wanted that connection – a small chirping from the back of his mind says, _“It’s because you want to tell someone about the weight_ you _carry,”_ but he ignores it – but he’s getting that connection and it makes him unbearably hard.

            Noiz finally rolls his boxers down and lets his erection out and then looks around the room.

            “Everyone hated me,” he says idly, searching the room for God knows what. Koujaku reaches down and starts to jerk himself off, but Noiz slaps his hand away as he gets up. “Stop,” he smirks. He walks to a cabinet and crouches down to open it, throws everything around and then comes back with a bottle of lotion. Right. Lube.

            “Why did they hate you?” Koujaku asks, not because he can’t already understand, but because he doesn’t want the conversation to drop there. Noiz stares at him as he unbuttons his own pants and lowers them and his boxers. He shakes them off the side of the chair and then uncaps the lotion and starts to spread it on his fingers. Koujaku hardly even realizes that they’re both half-naked now.

            “Because I beat the crap out of them,” Noiz says. “Because I liked the look of blood. Because my injuries didn’t bother me like they did them. I thought they were weak. I didn’t understand.”

            Noiz sits up and reaches around behind his own body and usually this is the hottest part of hooking up with Noiz – when he opens himself. But today, Koujaku is just – no, Koujaku is still extremely turned on by this. Noiz’s eyes always shut and his eyelids flutter as he fingers himself, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from making any sound, but Koujaku can tell that he loves the discomfort. And now it makes sense. It’s the one thing he can kind of feel.

            “I lost a tooth,” he says suddenly and Koujaku is so heavy-lidded from how good Noiz looks that he has to close his eyes to focus on his words. “Some kid punched it right out. I hurt a finger, too. It’s fucked up forever. I broke it without realizing it and it never set right. But it was the tooth that was the last straw for my parents. Whatever. Anyway.”

            Koujaku takes a deep breath and opens his eyes again just in time to see Noiz lift up on his knees and start to lower himself down onto Koujaku’s dick. He lets all the air out of his lungs and Koujaku follows suit and neither of them speak until Noiz has acclimated and built a somewhat steady rhythm. Just when Koujaku wants to say something comforting, Noiz laughs darkly.

            “I don’t know what this feels like,” he says with a smile and Koujaku lets out a strangled moan. It’s coming from a place of complete despair for the boy on top of him and it suddenly rushes to him, the thought of everything that Noiz has probably done and felt and said in his life before this moment. The things that grew out of no one ever loving him but a younger brother he was locked away from. Koujaku knows what it’s like to be despised by one parent, but at least he also knows what it’s like to be loved by another. At least he had his mother. Noiz had no one.

            “I don’t know what _this_ feels like,” he says again before stilling his hips, his ass completely swallowing Koujaku’s dick, and leaning forward to clamp his teeth around the skin on Koujaku’s neck. He bends awkwardly but Koujaku cries out and pushes him away by the shoulders after he sucks for just a few seconds.

            “It _hurts_ ,” Koujaku tells him.

            “Exactly,” Noiz pants, and then they’re a mess of nails and teeth and shoving; Noiz is so much rougher than usual and Koujaku doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t exactly hate it and he doesn’t want him to stop, but it _hurts_ and he almost wants to cry. Not because of the pain, but because he knows why Noiz is doing it. Koujaku knows why Noiz is scraping his nails against his arms, why he’s biting his neck, his chest, his shoulders, why he’s gripping his hair and pulling tight at the roots and then out at the ends until Koujaku is a whining mess. He knows why Noiz is pinning him _hard_ to the chair and riding him until they’ve both come, Noiz onto Koujaku’s stomach and Koujaku inside of Noiz’s body.

            He’s doing it because that’s what he’s always known. He’s only ever known hurting people whether he wants to or not. And he’s only ever known living for himself, which is why he gets off Koujaku and picks up his pants immediately, redressing and heading for the exit.

            “Wait,” Koujaku calls desperately. “I don’t care how this sounds. You can’t just leave after that.”

            “I can,” Noiz tells him, stopping and turning back to him. “Because you stay when you need someone to cuddle you. I don’t need you to cuddle me.”

            “We’re not holding hands,” Koujaku says before Noiz can. Noiz nods at him and Koujaku sucks in a breath.

            “From now on, go back to how it was before. Just punch me. And fuck me. I don’t need you being kind to me.”

            “I don’t think you know what you’re asking for.”

            “Oh yeah?” Noiz nods. “And why’s that?”

            Koujaku can’t answer. Koujaku can’t tell him. Koujaku can’t let him know just how angry he can get. Koujaku can’t make it known that he can tap into a really vicious side of himself, a side that might be more than Noiz is bargaining for.

            Koujaku can’t do anything but nod. He can’t do anything but agree to Noiz’s terms.  He doesn’t want to. He didn’t want to punch him during the fight and he doesn’t want to hurt him now. But if that’s what Noiz wants, he’ll do it. He’s not sure why he suddenly wants to give Noiz what he wants, but maybe a part of him wants to keep him around. He wants him close. So that he can keep an eye on him. Not that he cares, of course. So he nods, and then Noiz is gone.

            Koujaku grabs his jeans and puts them back on before Mizuki comes in and finds him a half-naked wreck but he still needs a few minutes to collect himself on the chair. He thought his head would be swimming with questions about Noiz’s pain tolerance and his parents and his little brother and his home, his real home, not his bare fucking two-bedroom apartment that he lives in alone on the other side of town, but all he can think about as he stares idly at Mizuki’s tattooing needles is lying face down on a mat and the cadence of his father’s voice and how he’d have given anything as a child to not feel pain.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDK I REALLY FEEL LIKE THIS IS PACED TOO QUICKLY AND OOC AND I DIDN'T REALLY MEAN TO WRITE AN ENTIRE CHAPTER TODAY I THOUGHT I WAS GONNA TAKE A WEEK OFF SO ANYWAY THIS IS ALSO A DAY LATE good bye


	10. black sheep come home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you'll take a ride from anyone, everyone wants a ride - pulls away - from you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (sorry it took so long i was on vacation, also i had to proofread again myself so if there are errors pppllleeeaaasssseee tell me im such gARbAge)

             It’s been difficult for Koujaku to convince everyone that things are okay with Noiz.  

            He rubs his temples as he sits across from a concerned Aoba, whose puffy cheeks and severe eyebrows are still overwhelmingly appealing – _cute_ , probably, is the word – but it’s been about an hour now and he still isn’t accepting Koujaku’s insistence that the fight with Noiz was equally matched, that it was just a Rhyme versus Rib thing, that he lost fair and square. Aoba is smarter than all that. He doesn’t want to hear it.

            “Why didn’t he have a scratch on him?”

            “Because I didn’t hit back.”

            “Why wouldn’t you hit back?”

            “I didn’t want to.”

            “Why not?”

            “Aoba….”

            “ _Why not_?”

            Koujaku sighs. He feels a sinking in his chest but he isn’t sure who it’s for this time. It’s half for Aoba, who’s adorable and worried and _all Koujaku has ever wanted was for Aoba to be worried about him_ , but he can’t stop thinking about a young Noiz, crying against a door, waiting for someone to let him out. Koujaku can’t tell Aoba that. But Aoba is the one person he’s always been able to be mostly honest with, so he takes a deep breath and considers his words carefully.

            “It was just a misunderstanding,” he says slowly. “If I’m telling you it’s alright, can’t you accept that? Don’t you believe me?”

            Aoba frowns suddenly, as if what Koujaku just said makes a lot of sense, but he doesn’t want to admit it. He looks away and Koujaku watches his eyelashes flutter as he thinks about something before nodding a couple times.

            “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

            Koujaku doesn’t know what that means. Aoba says it with such a finality that he isn’t entirely sure that he only means physically, but there’s no _way_ Aoba would know about him and Noiz – and even if somehow he _did_ know that he and Noiz were fucking, he couldn’t possibly know that it was anything deeper than that. And even if he knew that too, he thinks Koujaku would be the one to get hurt by a shitty teenager?

            “I’m fine,” he assures him and Aoba’s lips press together and curl up in a skeptical smile. He squints at him and then points at his eye.

            “Not if your face has anything to say about it.”

            “Please,” Koujaku scoffs. “It’s hardly bruised anymore. It was worse a week ago.”

            “That doesn’t make me feel better,” Aoba says, rolling his eyes. Koujaku grins.

            “If I recall, you gave me a couple black eyes when we were kids,” he says with a nudge to Aoba’s side. Aoba pulls away and folds his arms over his chest.

            “Those were play fights!” he pouts. “And you’d sit on my legs until they fell asleep! That’s not exactly fair.”

            “I’ll never forget how you just shot up,” Koujaku says with a laugh, recalling the day that he did, in fact, sit on Aoba’s shins to keep him from retaliating. “It hurt like Hell, but the way your tiny fist came flying at me is pretty funny now.”

            “Don’t get on my bad side,” Aoba warns with an exaggeratedly false scowl. “I might just do it again.”

            His voice is low and Koujaku knows he’s joking but he wishes Aoba wouldn’t do that. It always makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up and he’s fairly worried that one day it’ll make something else stand up too. It’s the kind of voice Koujaku uses with –

            He doesn’t want to think about Noiz. He shoves the thought away and puts on a smile.

            “Hey now, weren’t you just saying you didn’t want me to get hurt a minute ago? And now you’re threatening me. So fickle.”

            _“So fickle_ ,” Aoba mocks with his tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth and then turns to his computer and grabs the mouse to shake it awake. Koujaku climbs up on his bed and reclines against the pillow, mourning how rare it is that he gets to be alone with Aoba anymore and soaking it up while he can. He doesn’t need to say anything; he can just lay here while Aoba screws around on his computer for hours. That’s all he really wants. That’s all he’s ever really wanted. He thinks. Now that he really considers it, he can’t remember if he’s ever wanted more than this. If this has always been enough, why does he still feel that ache when Ren comes back an hour later, plastic bag full of snacks in hand, and kisses Aoba on the forehead? And would it go away if _he_ had someone whose forehead he could kiss?

            Mizuki is both a harder and easier sell; he’s usually quick to accept that even if he can’t understand Koujaku’s motivations, they are Koujaku’s alone and he doesn’t have to understand them. But he’s the one who cleaned him up. He’s the one who knows that it didn’t take a toll physically but mentally – emotionally – and Koujaku knows he can’t lie about that to him now. All Koujaku can do is hope that Mizuki will drop it eventually.

            “But – he _did_ apologize to you, right?” he asks for the third time, and Koujaku still hasn’t given him a straight answer. They’re sitting on Koujaku’s couch, their knees barely touching and Koujaku can only stare straight at the floor. He doesn’t know how to answer. He can’t lie to Mizuki – as in, he literally cannot lie to Mizuki. No one can bullshit Mizuki. He has a sixth sense for lies. Koujaku searches for words that will satisfy Mizuki without outright lying.

            “Noiz just has a very specific way of apologizing,” he shrugs. Mizuki is holding a coffee cup as usual, but Koujaku couldn’t stomach his this morning. He has a ginger ale sitting on the table but he hasn’t touched that either. “I don’t think anyone else would have heard an apology, but yeah. He did. I heard it.”

            Mizuki squints just like Aoba did, but Koujaku can tell it’s not the same. Koujaku runs his tongue over his bottom lip, which he’s chewed up the past two days and it stings a bit. He sucks it in and starts chewing on it some more as Mizuki rakes his eyes over him, studies him tirelessly, and then raises his eyebrows with a deep sigh.

            “It’s so strange how well you know him now,” he says, lifting his cup to his lips and taking a long sip. Koujaku supposes this would be a good time for him to reply; Koujaku supposes that not that long ago, he would have emphatically rejected the idea that he knew Noiz at all, but Koujaku supposes doing that now would be come off noticeably insincere, so he stays silent. “I guess I’m not surprised, though. That’s how it always works. You have to really understand someone before you can know that you hate them. And you _do_ hate him.”

            Koujaku still doesn’t reply. That popular idea that you really hate the people you see yourself in most pops into his head, but he doesn’t bring it up. Mizuki knocks his knee against his and Koujaku finally rolls his eyes over at him to see him grinning wide and he doesn’t bring it up again.

            But having done damage control with the two most important people to him only relaxes him for a couple days, when he remembers Noiz’s request. Noiz has specifically asked him to be an asshole and he’s having a difficult time with it. Two months ago, this would have been the easiest thing in his world. He used to do this by default; he used to _want_ to do this. It came naturally to him: shoving Noiz out of his way with his shoulder, shouting whatever invective came to his head in his direction, rolling his eyes every time he spoke. He doesn’t want to cuddle him, he doesn’t want to hold his hand, but he doesn’t want to fight with him anymore.

            But then he recalls every time he’s held Noiz’s gaze too long, how Noiz scoffs and leans over to Ren and Aoba and asks if they’ve ever considered opening their relationship to a third person (Ren gives an honest answer – “ _No, that is not something we’ve discussed,” –_ and Aoba has resigned himself to uncomfortable laughter whenever Noiz presents these hypothetical situations designed to shock – at least, that’s what Aoba thinks). That still gets to Koujaku. That still makes him angry. That still makes him want to strangle the younger boy until he passes out. But the bitter, gratified grin on Noiz’s face when he growled out an insult angers him even more, and he’s nervous that one of these days it’s going to boil over again.

         However, one thing Koujaku has always been good at is ignoring his problems.

            That’s harder than it seems though, to strike the right balance between obviously ignoring Noiz to make him happy and paying enough attention to him that no one else – Aoba and Mizuki – thinks he’s still uncomfortable around him, especially after going through so much trouble to convince them everything was alright.

            It’s another week later that Noiz walks into Black Needle on a Friday night. No one’s invited him, but it was certainly only a matter of time before he simply showed up like he used to, before the fight, and helped himself to a chair at their table. He sits with all the same arrogance that Koujaku has come to expect from him – all the same arrogance that Koujaku has come to realize is completely faked. Mizuki rolls his lips inward and sits back in his chair with his arms crossed and Koujaku realizes it’s going to take him some time to warm up to Noiz again – Mizuki always seemed a lot kinder to Noiz than Koujaku ever would have guessed he’d be, but he always figured that Mizuki started to see the world differently after the Morphine incident. Maybe he thought it was petty to hate a Rhymer. Maybe he just didn’t have the capacity to hate anyone anymore. In any case, Koujaku is surprisingly relieved to find Mizuki still has the propensity for disdain. Aoba, on the other hand, though visibly uncomfortable if his furrowed brow and awkward squirming tells Koujaku anything, tries to sound polite when he looks from Koujaku to Noiz and says, “Ren’s sitting there.”

            “Then where am I sitting?” Noiz asks with that shit-eating grin, and it’s not funny anymore. Koujaku isn’t embarrassed for him anymore when he pulls out these strained, awkward quips, because he knows he’s not just some asshole. He’s hardly spoken to people before in his life. Noiz has no idea what to do right now and he’s exceedingly good at not letting anybody know that.

            “Maybe out in the gutter,” Mizuki laughs darkly and Aoba frowns. Noiz’s grin fades just a bit as he stares directly at Koujaku. Maybe he’s waiting for him to add something to that, but Koujaku only stares back and doesn’t say a word. He’s looking into the eyes of a kid who’s trying _so hard_ and it suddenly strikes him, just how unbelievably wrong he’s been about Noiz since day one.

            A few seconds later, Noiz stands abruptly and grabs a chair from the next table and Koujaku dreads the moment that he slides it next to him, but he doesn’t. He throws it down on the other side of Aoba, directly opposite Koujaku, and this is so much worse. Koujaku _can’t_ ignore him when he’s throwing suggestive glances and staring him down so intensely that Koujaku can feel it on his skin. Noiz’s eyes are on him so intently that even Noiz would be able to feel it. Koujaku cringes at his own metaphor and stares at the table for a full minute before Aoba brings him back.

            “Are you listening? Koujaku?”

            “What?” Koujaku’s head snaps up and Ren is standing behind Aoba.

            “Do you want a drink?”

            “No,” he says and Ren turns to leave again, Mizuki standing up and following behind him. They must be getting drinks. Aoba shifts in his seat, probably still unsure what to do now that he’s been left with Koujaku and Noiz, and Koujaku doesn’t blame him. He tries to think of something to say quickly before Noiz can start a conversation, but he’s too late.

            “You look like you healed quickly,” he says and Koujaku can’t believe his audacity. Aoba throws an elbow to Noiz’s side and Noiz tilts off his chair, but doesn’t wince or cry out. Of course not. He could barely feel that. Aoba could drop kick him and he wouldn’t even realize it until he ended up on the ground. Koujaku’s mind suddenly stirs up the image of Noiz lying in an alleyway, surrounded by bigger, faceless men, kicking him, in the ribs, in the gut, in the face. He has no idea why he thinks of things like this and has to grip the seat of his chair to shake it out of his head.

            “If you’re going to come out here and hang out with us and act like nothing happened, at least don’t bring it up,” Aoba says.

            “Don’t,” Koujaku tells him. “It’s fine.”

            Aoba is almost angry when he looks at Koujaku but Koujaku holds his gaze long enough to cement his request and Aoba sighs. Then he leans over the slightest bit and says, “I’ll kick the shit out of you if you do anything like that again.”

            Koujaku tries not to smile but can’t help it. Noiz laughs.

            “Promise?” he asks with a flirty, if distant, smirk and Koujaku rolls his eyes. Aoba groans.

            “You can be so weird,” Aoba says and it comes out before Koujaku can stop himself:

            “Yeah, haven’t you ever learned how to talk to people?”

            He’s not sure it’s really that piercing, though he certainly means to reference the fact that Noiz never had any friends, not even in Emmerich, and even he wants to punch himself for it. It was too low and he already knows he isn’t cut out to do this. Noiz is smiling wide, but it’s an incredulous look on his face, as if he can’t believe Koujaku actually said that, actually did it, actually went through with it, and Aoba is saying something else now but Koujaku isn’t listening. He’s staring Noiz down this time, pleading with him to understand that it’s different now. He can’t _be an asshole_ – he can’t say the things he used to say now that he knows what they really mean. He can’t call him a freak, ask him why he’s never had any friends, punch him in the mouth. He’s begging Noiz to see that now.

            But Noiz refuses. He keeps prodding at him, more and more like they were several months ago, before they ever fucked, before they ever spoke more than to insult or antagonize each other, before Koujaku ever stood in Noiz’s bedroom looking at a picture of his younger brother and watching Noiz try to hold back tears. It’s as if Noiz doesn’t even remember any of that and Koujaku wonders if he’s just as good at parceling things up and ignoring them too. And why can’t Koujaku do that with this? Why can’t he give Noiz his own little room? Why does Noiz encroach on _everything?_

            He’s not sure why he thinks about coming home to Noiz, in an apartment he’s never seen, just one he’s dreamt up right here, on the spot, and putting a hand on his back, just between his boney shoulder blades, as he leans down to kiss his forehead. But the thought kills him.

            “What do you think about that, Koujaku?” comes Noiz’s smarmy voice and Koujaku realizes he wasn’t paying attention again. He was dreaming about a domestic life with Noiz instead.

            “What do I think about what?” he asks, though he’s sure he doesn’t want to know.

            “Unrequited love.”

            Koujaku nods, not in response to Noiz’s question, but in response to himself. He knew he didn’t want to know. Noiz has _that smirk_ on his face again and Koujaku can’t even begin to count the amount of times he’s seen it and yet it still gets to him, even now. Even when it’s explicitly clear to Koujaku that Noiz is absolutely, definitely, no question, goading him on purposefully; even when Koujaku knows that Noiz only wants to get under his skin for the thrill of a punch or a rough fuck; even now, that smirk gets to him and Koujaku tries to keep his cool, but he can’t.

            “I think you probably know more about that than I do.”

            Noiz is still smirking, his elbows on the table, hands grabbing either one of them, and he’s hunched forward, staring at Koujaku. He’s still smirking when the table goes silent, and he’s still smirking when he stands up from the table abruptly, his chair scraping shrilly against the floor. Koujaku doesn’t know if he’s still smirking when he crashes out the front door, but Koujaku is surprised that his chest isn’t aching after he’s gone. Maybe it’s just too much at this point. He’s already resigned himself to this; he already knew it would have to end this way, he just didn’t think it would be this quick. Or this easy. He never thought finally getting under Noiz’s skin would come this naturally.

            “What’s wrong with him?” Aoba asks, his hair fluttering as he turns his head quickly from the door the Koujaku.

            “He doesn’t like getting a taste of his own medicine,” Mizuki mutters, leaning forward to grab his beer and then chugging it down. All Koujaku can do is look to Ren, whose forehead is wrinkled in confusion. One corner of his lips is turned upright as he gazes back at Koujaku. Ren is a good guy. Ren is – Aoba. So of course Koujaku loves Ren. Of course Koujaku wants Ren to be the one to be kissing Aoba on the forehead when he comes home. Of course Koujaku wants Aoba to have someone to take care of him and of course Koujaku wants Ren to have the same.

            “What’s wrong with _you_?” Aoba says, jutting his head out and reaching across Ren to poke him on the shoulder. Koujaku smiles.

            “Does it suddenly smell better in here, or is that just me?”

            Mizuki chortles into his beer and Aoba rolls his eyes with a grin on his face. Koujaku doesn’t actually want to say it, especially now that Noiz is gone and there’s no point, but he desperately wants to bridge the gap that’s been opened and no one mentions Noiz the rest of the night. Aoba has one too many drinks and Koujaku can see it in his cheeks; they turn a light red at the top, just under his eyes, and he keeps sinking his head below his shoulders to laugh and smile at everyone. He leans in to nuzzle against Ren’s neck and Mizuki rolls his eyes. Ren wraps an arm around his back and holds onto his waist, and it isn’t until Koujaku is walking home alone that he stops in his tracks and realizes – there was no ache. Ren’s hand was on his waist, he was gripping Aoba, his boyfriend, the only person Koujaku has ever been in love with, since he was practically a child, and he didn’t feel that ache in his chest.

            He feels it a little bit now, thinking back on it, but in the moment, it wasn’t there. He hadn’t even noticed. He didn’t register that they were touching, only that Mizuki would scoff and make fun of them and then they moved on. They talked about Rib and the boy Mizuki met the other day. Aoba asked if it was serious and Mizuki gave him that trademark smile – that little jaunt of his lips that is just as _Mizuki_ as that empty smirk is _Noiz_. Aoba has that flirty smile – maybe it’s not flirty, maybe that’s just Koujaku’s bias, but even Ren’s smile is very unique – it’s predictably dog-like, and Koujaku swears he shakes his hips a bit when he gets _really_ happy, and it starts to rain ever so lightly just as Koujaku wonders if he has a special kind of smile. Then he wonders if anyone else has noticed these smiles, or if he’s just drunk and walking home alone at night in the rain.

            He’s thinking too hard, trying to recall Kou or Hagima’s smiles, wondering what Clear’s looks like behind that mask – if he even has a face. Honestly, nothing gives Koujaku the creeps like thinking about that gas mask. That’s definitely the last thing he wants staring down at him when he’s drunk and seeing double but even when he’s sober it sort of terrifies him. He wonders idly why he could possibly wear it, if he’s in on some secret that the rest of the world doesn’t know, when he turns the corner to his apartment and sees a figure on his front step. At first he thinks it’s a neighbor, or possibly someone waiting to be let in by someone else. Then he realizes.

            He approaches Noiz with a somewhat knowing, if arrogant gait, not that he means to, but he’s fairly tipsy and the smirk that grows on his face is more because he knew Noiz would be hurt and it’s not that he wanted to hurt him, it’s more that he wanted to prove that he was right. Noiz is hardly twenty and Koujaku has eight years on him. He almost always knows better and he wishes Noiz could just accept that.

            Noiz is turned to the side, messing around on his Coil, his legs pressed together and pulled up toward his chest. He’s completely closed off until he notices Koujaku coming his way, when he turns his Coil screen off and shifts his weight so he can turn effortlessly toward Koujaku. His smirk is so fake, Koujaku can tell, it’s so put-on that Koujaku’s chest aches – there. There it is. There’s the ache. He knew it wouldn’t be gone long. It’s for Noiz, now. It’s for how desperate Noiz is to still pretend like he knows what’s best for him when he’s obviously hurting just as bad as Koujaku might be, if he ever let himself think about it.

            “You wanna fuck?” he says tactlessly and Koujaku swears his voice almost cracks. He scoffs.

            “You ran away and now you want to just fuck?”

            “Hm,” Noiz shrugs and pauses for a moment to think. “I had to shit. It happens. Don’t worry. I’m clean now.”

            “Gross,” Koujaku sneers. That’s so disgusting that he almost forgets this is a serious conversation.

            “Yeah, that’s what most people say when they fuck me,” he says, standing up finally and taking a couple steps toward Koujaku, who stands his ground firmly.

            “Am I supposed to feel bad for you for that?” Koujaku asks. He does. He does feel bad for him. He feels bad that people took advantage of Noiz. He feels bad that he knows that Noiz consented, but only because he didn’t realize he didn’t have to. He feels bad that there are people who would take advantage of that, and he feels bad that he might be one of them.

            “You’re supposed to let me in so we can do whatever,” Noiz says.

            “Yeah, right,” Koujaku shakes his head. He gives up. He doesn’t know what else to do but relent. “I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this anymore. It’s not the same – ”

            “Fine,” Noiz mumbles, so softly that Koujaku can hardly hear it. He lunges forward and grabs the front of Koujaku’s kimono, pulling him down to the cement walkway so quickly that Koujaku feels all the air rush out of his lungs when he hits the ground. Noiz finds his way to his waist and straddles him, shoving his hands inside his kimono and running them down Koujaku’s chest. Koujaku shivers when Noiz says, _“We’ll do it out here.”_

            But Koujaku doesn’t want to do it out here. There are bushes lining either side of the path, and it’s late enough that his neighbors are either asleep or out for the night, so he’s not scared anyone will see. He just doesn’t want to keep doing this. He doesn’t have this in him anymore. He thought maybe the rough sex and the hate and the insults and the name-calling and _the hate_ was all just bottled up aggression, but it wasn’t – or maybe it was and it’s just ran its course – he has no idea. He’s so _fucking confused_ and Noiz is kissing him, his wrapped palms rubbing shamelessly against his nipples as he humps into Koujaku’s thigh, and to be fair, it’s nice and his lips are sort of gentle and sweet; they’re rough and wanton, but sweet, sort of like Koujaku is his boyfriend and he hasn’t seen him in days and he’s so excited he’s finally home, but when Koujaku remembers that’s just a fantasy he’s built in his head, he stops kissing back and he pulls away, grabbing his hands by the wrists and throwing them off him. He sits up and takes a deep breath.

            “Come on, I don’t want to do this – ” he starts, and he’s about to say more, but Noiz grabs the back of his neck and cradles his head against his chest. Koujaku is so shocked when Noiz’s breath hitches so suddenly that his body jerks and Koujaku can feel it.

            “ _Why_?” Noiz asks, and Koujaku thinks he’s going to cry for a second but then he seems to collect himself. “Why can’t you just – go back to – before –?”

            “You _ran away_ ,” Koujaku pleads. “It _can’t be_ like before. I know what I’m saying now, they’re not just empty insults. I can’t – I don’t want to do that. I don’t know what to say. I can’t do this. I can’t do this anymore, Noiz. I can’t do it. And I don’t give a fuck, I’m not trying to hold your hand, but I don’t _want_ to do it. I don’t want to do this to you. I don’t love you, I don’t care what you want to do to yourself, but I can’t do it. I can’t do it to you anymore. If you need someone to – do whatever it is that you want from me, then find someone else. Because I can’t do it. I can’t do that anymore. Find someone else.”

            And then it’s quiet.

            That was scary. He hopes it’s just the alcohol. He didn’t mean to ramble, and he’s scared because he doesn’t know what came over him. He’s scared he might do it again. He can hear himself breathing as he stares into Noiz’s eyes and he’s so frantic and worried and anxious and begging Noiz with the silence between his breaths to let him go, to let this stop, to stop asking him to do this because he _can’t do it anymore._

            “What if I did?” Noiz asks finally. Koujaku shakes his head.

            “Did what?”

            “What if I did find someone else?” he clarifies and Koujaku thinks for a moment but nothing comes to his brain. He’s completely blank. He shrugs.

            “Fine,” he says. “Find someone else.”

            “What if I _did?”_ Noiz says, bringing his hands slowly from the back of Koujaku’s neck back to the front of his kimono. Koujaku shivers. “What if I came into Black Needle with bruises and cuts and whatever else, and you knew it was from someone else?”

            “Are you asking me if I’d be jealous?” he asks, but Noiz doesn’t answer. He just quirks an eyebrow up and Koujaku is confused. “Or are you threatening me?”

            “Threatening you?”

            “Are you trying to tell me if I don’t beat you up, someone else might do it worse?”

            “Well, to be fair, even if you _do_ beat me up, someone else probably will _too_ ,” he says with a roll of his eyes, as if it’s some assumed knowledge of the world. As if it’s just rote at this point that people will beat him and he won’t stop them. Koujaku takes another deep breath and is surprised when it hitches too. Maybe _he’s_ about to cry.

            “I don’t want to be your boyfriend,” he says. “I don’t want to hold your hand. I told you, I’m not in love with you. I’m not going to be jealous if you fuck somebody else. But I don’t think you deserve anything you seem to think you do. I don’t _know_ what your parents made you believe, and I can’t stop you from doing whatever you want to yourself, all I’m saying is that I can’t. I can’t do it. I can’t do it anymore. You’ll have to find someone else if you want that because it can’t be me.”

            Noiz throws Koujaku’s upper body to the ground so hard that he grunts when his back hits the concrete but Noiz doesn’t get off of him. Koujaku is sure that he’ll think more about the words he just said tomorrow when he’s sober, but right now they just sort of spilled out. And the worst part is that he knows he’s not even that drunk. He’s hardly even that tipsy. He’s just exhausted. Not from the day, but from Noiz. He’s exhausted by how confused he is every time his chest aches for someone that isn’t Aoba. He’s exhausted of thinking about Noiz as a child, locked away from everyone, completely convinced there’s nothing in the world worth living for but himself. He’s exhausted of seeing the world so romantically but never getting to feel that romance for himself. He doesn’t want romance with Noiz, but he doesn’t want – this. He doesn’t want rushed fucking in Mizuki’s parlor or a sloppy blowjob in a bathroom stall. He doesn’t mind not coming home to Noiz to give him a kiss on the head, but he doesn’t want to hurt him anymore.

            Several seconds have passed between them now, giving them both a chance to catch their breaths. Koujaku has to admit that he appreciates it when Noiz gives him time to calm down; Noiz has no idea that he needs that, but he appreciates it nonetheless. He can hear the strangled sob in the back of Noiz’s throat when he opens his mouth to speak:

            “Fine,” he says weakly. “Fine. You don’t want to do this anymore?”

            “You understand though, don’t you? You were locked away – you didn’t have friends – you can’t _feel_?” Fuck, he’s rambling again. “I can’t call you a freak anymore. I can’t laugh that no one loves you. You get that, right?”

            “Shut up,” Noiz shakes his head. It’s not violent or angry. He closes his eyes for a few seconds and then opens them and repeats, “Shut up.”

            “You _understand_ though, right?” Koujaku wishes desperately that he would. _He can’t be Noiz’s boyfriend, but he doesn’t want to be his enemy anymore._ How many times can he say it to himself before Noiz finally understands?

            “Shut _up_ ,” Noiz says again. “Okay, so you know about my parents. And my brother. And my – condition. But what about you?”

            “What about me?” Koujaku asks breathlessly. They’ve been through this before. There’s no way he’s going to tell Noiz about any of the things stored in those rooms in his mind. _He’s_ not the one going out and letting people hurt him because of some subconscious sense of self-hatred. If he was putting himself in danger, it might be more prudent to talk about his past, but he’s not. And that’s exactly why he stores those memories away. So that no one else can try to talk to him about them, either.

            “I know you have something dark in you,” Noiz says and Koujaku recalls when he said this before, in Mizuki’s tattoo parlor. “It’s not Aoba. Aoba is _nothing_ compared to whatever you have stored inside of you.”

            “And how the hell would you know that?” Koujaku asks suddenly, an angry smile spreading across his lips. He stares at Noiz incredulously, in total disbelief at his tenacity. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Koujaku is going to call his bluff.

            “I can _see_ it,” he says. “When you get really angry. Do you remember that time you rushed me in the alley? Months ago? I saw your eyes. You weren’t even _there_. You were completely gone. And I still see it sometimes, when you’re really mad. And I still see how hard you try to collect yourself. And I have to wonder – why do you bother? You’re a hothead. I can call you a loser and you’ll lose your shit, so why do you try to control yourself other times? Is it because I’m – striking a nerve?”

            There’s a heat rising in Koujaku’s face. It’s in his jaw and his cheekbones, it’s crawling slowly up to his scalp. Air isn’t getting to his lungs as easily and he’s staring at Noiz so harshly that his vision is going blurry.

            “How come when I call you a loser, you turn around and call me a freak? But if I say something like – your mother never loved you – ”

            Everything goes blank.

            Koujaku doesn’t remember the few seconds between Noiz mentioning his mother and when his hand is around his throat.

            It’s quiet. He’s not gripping Noiz’s neck hard, he simply has his fingers latched around it, and everything is rushing to him at once. Noiz doesn’t know what’s happening, but he’s dangerously close to understanding _something_. Koujaku shouldn’t let Noiz’s prodding get to him like this, because he doesn’t truly understand what he’s saying, so he can’t truly mean it, but Koujaku didn’t mean to throttle him. _He doesn’t remember what happened_ between Noiz’s words and his violent reaction.

            Noiz is rocking back and forth now, and at first Koujaku has no idea why, but then he realizes it’s because he’s breathing so heavily that his own body is heaving. He can feel Noiz’s pulse in his throat and that’s when Noiz brings his hand up to Koujaku’s face and –

            Koujaku _does_ remember what happens between Noiz brushing the hair away from his tattoo and leaving him on the ground outside his apartment. The second he felt the air touch that side of his face – the side that he never uncovers, the part that he hardly looks at, even in private – he threw Noiz off of him by his neck with an inhuman growl, the growl that he can hear come out of his mouth sometimes that he can’t control. It’s the one that he knows is a bad sign, the one that is a warning that he needs to reign himself back in. Instead of grabbing Noiz and beating him to a pulp, he stands over him, picks him up by the collar of his shirt and seethes, _“Don’t_ ever _touch me again_ ,” and leaves him on the sidewalk as he goes inside and locks every door three times over.

            He pulls every shade closed, including the one in his bedroom, and he sleeps alone in the dark that night, after he’s gripped at his bed sheets long enough to calm down. He bites it back, quite literally gritting his teeth as he refuses to think about his mother’s hair and how she used to wear it up in a bun, but would let it down when she got home. He refuses to think about how she’d taught Koujaku how to braid it and how she’d let him play with it every night. He refuses to think about how he grew his own hair out after she died and he refuses to think about what she might say to him right now if he had her here, because he knows it couldn’t possibly be anything good.

            He doesn’t fall asleep until he’s pulled enough of his own hair out that he wonders if he’d even be able to braid it come morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :o


	11. map of the problematique

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and i feel like everything i saw is being swept away... well i refuse to let you go

            Noiz is sorry. He must be. Koujaku can tell.

            Because Noiz hasn’t left him alone for the past three days.

            He’s at least the closest Noiz can get to sorry _,_ given that his idea of apologizing is calling Koujaku’s Coil every few hours. He never leaves a message – of course – and Koujaku starts to wonder if Noiz has set an alarm because the rings come so precisely on the hour eventually that Koujaku can use his calls as a clock. Koujaku told Aoba and Mizuki he wasn’t feeling well and refused to come by Black Needle the past three nights, as he was sure that would be Noiz’s first stop. He figures it’s only a matter of time before Noiz mentions something to them, but he’s going to wait that out.

            And it’s the thought that Noiz could know _why_ he should be sorry that stresses Koujaku out the most. It’s that thought that won’t leave his mind and it’s that thought that he finds himself fixated on for _hours,_ sitting on his couch, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands in front of him. He stares at the floor, lost and listless to the idea that Noiz knows something about his past – about Ryuuhou or his mother or the true nature of his tattoo – and that terrifies him. Then he realizes that it’s absurd. Noiz couldn’t possibly know about any of this. Nobody knows. Nobody could possibly tell him. Unless he ran into Ryuuhou, which Koujaku also realizes is practically impossible but that’s just one more ludicrous idea that keeps him up at night.

            He’s never had this sort of breakdown before. It’s quiet and introspective for the most part. It’s sort of like the morning after he first slept with Noiz and he realizes now that it’s because he’s tired. He’s tired of being angry and confused. He’s tired of still feeling alone when there are so many people surrounding him. He’s tired of the rooms in his head and he’s not sure how much longer he can keep them closed.   

            But then he finds frazzled moments of weakness throughout the day, like an explosion following a slow burn. He finds himself lifting a leg up in the shower and balancing it on the wall as his fingers creep towards his entrance. It isn’t exactly _self-destructive_ , but it feels so rushed and disciplinary and self-indulgent that it seems to serve the same purpose. He sinks down to his knees instead and leans up against the edge of the tub as he reaches around and tries to insert a finger but it feels so strange – physically and otherwise. He takes a deep breath and rolls his eyes and prays that he put Beni in sleep mode as he gets it halfway in – that’s good enough. He doesn’t like that. He starts to take it out but the self-loathing slides it back in slowly and he grunts from the back of his throat. That’s when he remembers that he’s supposed to be using lube for this and takes his finger out, turning off the water and stomping out of the room (Beni was not on sleep mode – until he asked Koujaku how the shower was, when Koujaku promptly turned him off).

            It’s bizarre. It’s several hours of thoughtful solitude and then a sudden release of pent-up adrenaline. And the release always comes in the form of some sort of long overdue desire, like fingering himself in the bath, or cooking himself four different dinners in one night just for fun, or rearranging his entire bedroom. This release is not exactly violent _physically,_ but he can feel it coming from a place of irritated bewilderment and it’s once he’s spent all that energy that he ends up laying in bed for hours, staring up at the ceiling and considering his options.

            It doesn’t occur to him that he’s been considering telling Noiz everything until there’s a knock on his door three nights after the incident.

            He stands from his bed and walks into the hallway but doesn’t move from there. He can see the outline of Noiz’s hat outside. Noiz knows he’s inside, too, but Koujaku still doesn’t walk toward the door.

            “Come on,” comes Noiz’s muffled voice. “You’re such a baby. How can you be such a baby _and_ such an old man at the same time?”

            Koujaku stares at the door. There’s something comforting about Noiz shuffling awkwardly out there, about Noiz’s movements looking choppy and adolescent from where Koujaku is standing. He doesn’t respond and five minutes later, Noiz leaves.

            He’s back the next morning, just before Koujaku is about to leave for the day. He calls through the door like the day before – _“Open up, grandpa. I won’t touch your precious hair again,” –_ but Koujaku still doesn’t respond. He only smiles softly and then calls his first appointment to tell her he’s going to be late. Noiz is gone twenty minutes later and Koujaku makes it to her place unnoticed.

            He cancels the rest of his appointments – he’s had a more vigorous work ethic the past year, but he’s probably earned a couple days off by this point – and stays at home. Once again, he sits on his couch aimlessly, but now he’s waiting. For Noiz to come by – which he does. Just as often as he called, he knocks on Koujaku’s door and yells at him from outside. Koujaku can hear the frustration growing in his voice by the fifth morning, and he starts to feel bad. He’s still angry – he still can’t get over Noiz lifting his hair, but he’s also sad for him. He’s also sorry for him. He doesn’t mean to ignore him. He’s just trying to figure out how to let Noiz in.

            Apparently he’s taking too long. Noiz moves on to prank calls.

            It’s sort of counterintuitive: Noiz calls from a number Koujaku doesn’t recognize the first time. He answers, but only because it doesn’t cross his mind that Noiz would go that far. When he hears Noiz’s voice, the boy is asking if he’s interested in signing up for rotary phone service because he’s so old and then hangs up. Koujaku wonders if he realizes he had the chance to speak just then, if he realizes he could have said whatever he wanted to say and Koujaku would have been caught off-guard. Koujaku wonders if Noiz realizes his best bet was not to immediately prank call, because he doesn’t pick up his next several calls, all from blocked numbers.

            Koujaku wonders if Noiz just doesn’t care anymore and is having just as strange a breakdown as he is.

            It’s been a week since the incident that Aoba finally calls Koujaku and he isn’t sure he trusts his Coil entirely, but he gives it a chance.

            “Aoba?”

            “Why no video?” comes Aoba’s voice. Koujaku sighs with relief.

            “Hold on,” he says as he flips the Coil up and presss the video button. Aoba’s shining face lights up Koujaku’s living room and he can’t help but smile.

            “How are you?” Aoba asks. His worried expression – eyebrows wrinkled, lips pulled into a tight pout, eyes wide and accusatory – warms Koujaku’s heart.

            “I’m fine, and yourself?”

            “We haven’t seen you in a while.”

            “I’ve been busy. And feeling under the weather.”

            “It doesn’t have anything to do with Noiz?”

            Koujaku takes a breath and rolls his eyes. Aoba continues:

            “Because he talked to me _and_ Mizuki. He asked where you were. We couldn’t answer, because we weren’t sure.”

            “I’ve just been _home_ ,” Koujaku assures him. “No doubt he only wants to know because he’s missed making my life miserable.”

            “Hm,” Aoba hums as if there’s more he wants to say. Koujaku certainly isn’t going to prod, so he keeps silent and Aoba finally says, “No doubt.”

            “If you’d like to come over sometime, you’re more than welcome. Or I’ll drop by for a dinner from Tae-san.”

            “Do that,” Aoba tells him, his eyes skeptical and calculating. Koujaku doesn’t like it. “I’d like to see you.”

            “I’d like to see you, too,” Koujaku nods. “I’ll come over tomorrow.”

            “Sounds good,” Aoba nods. “I’ll see you then.”

            Aoba leans in to turn his Coil off and Koujaku can’t stop himself:

            “What did Noiz ask you? I’m just wondering.”

            Aoba looks at the screen, right into Koujaku’s eyes, and cocks his head to the side incredulously. If Koujaku weren’t preoccupied, he’d say Aoba looked cute.

            “Just wondering?” he chides. “He only asked where you were.”

            “I see.”

            “He also asked if you were okay.”

            “Hm.”

            “And he seemed worried.”

            “He’s pretty good at faking that.”

            “Yeah,” Aoba nods. “I guess you’d know.”

            Koujaku doesn’t want to know what that means so he shakes his head and waves goodbye.

            “I’ll see you at dinner,” he says. Aoba rolls his eyes before he shuts off the Coil and Koujaku has hardly gotten the words out of his mouth before he’s off his couch and out his front door.

            His feet are carrying him to Noiz’s and his brain is hardly protesting. Maybe it’s been a long time coming. Maybe he’s secretly wanted this – no. This is fucking infantile – he’s _definitely_ wanted this. He’s already admitted to himself how badly he’s wanted to confess to his sins since the day he committed them, and he figures, on his long, nighttime walk to Noiz’s, that it’s about time he admitted that he knows Noiz – and he knows him _well_. He can’t relate to every part of him, but he understands him. And it’s obvious that Noiz is catching onto him, as well. He already knows that Noiz isn’t going to judge him, and that’s why when he knocks on his door, he’s calm. So calm that he’s never been this unaware of his own heartbeat before. So calm that his hands aren’t shaking and he’s not sweating. So calm that when Noiz laughs shrilly as he opens the door, all Koujaku does is roll his lips inward and give a small smile.

            “Couldn’t stay away,” Noiz mutters and Koujaku smiles a bit wider. He knows Noiz is bluffing. Noiz has been bluffing since day one. He calls his own bluff by following up with, “So, what? Are you here to beat me up?”

            Koujaku doesn’t say a word.

            “Did Aoba tell you I asked about you? I just didn’t want your corpse to stink up an apartment if you had died in there.”

            Koujaku stares.

            “Are you just here to look at me or… you wanna fuck, or –?”

            “I want to kill someone.”

            The words come so easily. So readily. They just spill out of his mouth like water, like Koujaku never imagined, and Noiz’s hand slips cautiously off the doorknob as he crosses his arms in front of his chest with a small laugh.

            “Yeah, and you chose me?”

            “No, Noiz,” Koujaku says earnestly. “I mean I want to kill an actual person. There is someone specific who I fantasize about killing.”

            That’s not entirely true – if Koujaku ever let himself think too hard about Ryuuhou he’d fly into one of his rages – but Noiz seems intrigued, if a little nervous.

            “What does that mean?”

            Koujaku ignores his question:

            “And I’ve already tried to kill myself.”

            Noiz hardly moves but Koujaku sees his eyes widen in sincere shock and – concern? Is Noiz concerned for him?

            “What the fu – when? Now?”

            “A long time ago,” Koujaku shakes his head. “Not recently. But it was a real attempt. I almost did it.”

            “Get in here, you dumbass,” Noiz says suddenly, stepping back into his apartment and to the side so that Koujaku can make his way in.

            It’s awkward at first. They both sit down on the couch and lean forward, their elbows resting on their knees and their hands clasped in front of them – just like Koujaku’s been doing all week. He has a few reservations now. It’s easier than he thought it’d be, but it’s still not _easy_. It isn’t simple to tell Noiz all these things, or even some of these things, but he always thought he’d accidentally let all of this out in some explosion of emotions or have it forced out of him. He never thought he’d be sitting down with someone and trusting him enough to tell them calmly to their face. Yet here he is.

            Noiz refuses to speak, though he shifts anxiously on the couch. Koujaku likes that. Koujaku likes seeing Noiz reacting to things – not because he wants the upper hand on him anymore, but because he’s glad that Noiz can be vulnerable around him. He doesn’t know what he did to make Noiz feel that way, but he doesn’t know what Noiz did to convince him it was a good idea to come here and be open with him either. They’ve had chemistry since the first day they met, they just didn’t see it yet.

            Koujaku takes a deep breath and then lets out a small chuckle.

            “My mother and I left my father when I was young,” he starts. He doesn’t expect his voice to be so deep and soft. “My father was part of the yakuza. He was married. My mother was not his wife.”

            Koujaku has to pause. He figures he’s going to have to pause a lot. He peeks at Noiz out of the corner of his eye, and he is suddenly immobile, his eyes glued to the floor. Koujaku nods to himself.

            “He treated her poorly because of that. And so did his wife. So we left.”

            Noiz gives a tiny nod. Koujaku cocks his head to the side.

            “Then we had to go back. I was his only son and I was supposed to – whatever. _Follow in his footsteps_ ,” Koujaku mocks and that’s when Noiz finally reacts. He pulls himself up on the couch and sits against the back. Koujaku looks over at him but his eyes are still on the floor. He brings a finger up to his mouth and starts to bite his nail – that’s when Koujaku realizes they were both heirs that didn’t exactly live up to expectations. He licks his lips, shakes the image of Noiz as a child locked up in a room alone out of his head, and continues:

            “I tried to protest, but that only made things worse for my mother. And myself. I didn’t care so much about myself but I hated – um.” His voice gets caught in his throat so he pauses and collects himself. His heartbeat is still calm. “I hated coming home and seeing her bruised.”

            Noiz turns his head away.

            “I just wanted to take that for her. Some of these scars are from that, actually but most of them are – something else,” Koujaku says, shaking his head again. “But anyway… he and his wife would beat us. So I figured the best thing I could do was – follow in his footsteps.”

            “But you obviously didn’t.”

            Noiz’s voice is loud and shaking and surprises Koujaku. He takes a moment to register what he said and then he almost laughs.

            “Right,” he answers. “Well, I tried. The first thing I did was get this tattoo.”

            Noiz finally looks at him. He doesn’t meet his eyes, but his eyes do graze over the ink on his chest and Koujaku tries to tilt his head to find his gaze. Noiz refuses to make eye contact.

            “I mean, he made me get it. It’s a yakuza tradition. Do you know what the Tebori method is?”

            Noiz closes his eyes and runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

            “It’s painful,” Koujaku says.

            Noiz nods slowly.

            “He brought in a tattoo artist – fuck.”

            Koujaku can’t continue. He bites his lips and shakes his head, pulling his hands up to cover his face and it’s not that he doesn’t want to tell Noiz, it’s that he can’t say it. He can’t think about it. He can’t remember Ryuuhou in any capacity other than a fleeting thought that gets locked back up immediately. He doesn’t want to fall into a rage. He doesn’t want to hurt Noiz.

            And then he feels a hand on his back. When he pulls his face out of his hands and looks to Noiz, he almost laughs – Noiz pulls his upper lip into a small sneer as he rubs Koujaku’s back, like he’s disgusted by what he’s doing but he does it nonetheless. Koujaku shakes his head again.

            “I don’t know why you’re telling me this,” Noiz tells him. “You don’t have to.”

            “I’m telling you this because I – _fuck_ ,” Koujaku breathes. It’s easier to admit to himself that he wants to do this than it is to admit that to Noiz. He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m telling you this because I want to.”

            Noiz doesn’t answer, but he keeps rubbing his back. A thousand thoughts start swirling around Koujaku’s brain, but he can’t keep track of a single one of them, so he blurts it out:

            “He brought in a tattoo artist, who took so much pleasure in _hurting me_ ,” he spits. “I did it because I thought it would save my mother. I did it because I was saving my _mother_. I thought I could _save her._ But I couldn’t.”

            Noiz’s hand speeds up and Koujaku’s words slow down.

            “I thought I could save her from my father, but I couldn’t save her from – ”

            No. He’s not going to say that. That’s too dramatic. He shakes his head again and Noiz moves closer to him.

            “What happened?” he encourages. Koujaku actually laughs. Two seconds ago Noiz was more than happy to tell him not to push himself, as most people would be. Now he wants to know everything.

            “This tattoo is not just a tattoo. It has a power over me.”

            He’s never said this out loud so he didn’t realize how ridiculous it would sound. He suddenly starts to wonder if Noiz will even believe him.

            He looks to him. Noiz’s lips are parted slightly and his eyes are focused. He’s listening. Not judging. Koujaku nods, more to himself, to assure himself he was right in thinking that Noiz is not going to turn him into the police or run away the minute he bears his soul. He’s not going to question him. Koujaku has to believe that.

            “If I get too angry – it takes over,” he finally says, so quietly that he can hardly hear himself. “It has a power over me. That’s the only way I can explain it. So I have to watch my emotions. I can’t get too angry. If I do – it’s bad.”

            Noiz doesn’t move. His hand slows but doesn’t stop. He hardly reacts. Koujaku takes another breath.

            “It was something that the – the tattoo artist was trying out and – it worked. I guess. I don’t think my father had much say in it. He just needed me tattooed and had a lot of resources at his disposal.”

            “So – you want to kill your father?”

            Koujaku’s head jerks up in surprise. He finally meets Noiz’s eyes – they’re complacent. They completely understand. They’re not shocked or confused. Noiz is _sympathetic_. Koujaku is so overwhelmed that he has to catch his breath but he eventually shakes his head anxiously and stutters:

            “N-no, Noiz, I – my father is dead.”

            “Oh,” is Noiz’s simple reply. “You want to kill –?”

            “Ryuuhou.”

            It’s the simplest thing he’s said yet – “ _Ryuuhou” –_ because he didn’t have to surround it with context. Noiz wanted to know so he asked, and all Koujaku had to do was answer.

            “Ryuuhou is – the tattoo artist?”

            Koujaku nods.

            “I – I have to,” he shrugs. “If I don’t tell myself I will if I ever find him, I don’t – I can’t function. I’m a fucking – _fuck_!”

            “Monster?” Noiz finishes for him quickly and then the two can only stare at each other for several quiet seconds. Koujaku’s mouth is agape and shocked; Noiz’s is thin and self-aware.

            “Yeah,” Koujaku nods finally. “I’m – honestly a monster.”

            Noiz flinches and takes a moment to respond:

            “I don’t think – hating someone who hurt you makes you a monster.”

            “That’s not – why,” Koujaku says quickly. This is getting harder by the minute but his body is still calm and he doesn’t understand why.

            “Koujaku,” Noiz continues for him. “How did your father die?”

            He asks in a tone that’s already answered his own question. It’s as if he’s only asking out of routine. He has to ask that so that Koujaku can answer, but he already knows. He’s already realized how Koujaku’s father died. Koujaku feels like the world stops.

            “I killed him.”

            Noiz pauses but it feels more like it’s to give Koujaku a moment to collect himself than it is to comprehend the situation.

            “Where’s your mother?”

            Koujaku wonders if he can just stay quiet. He wonders if that will answer the question.

            “Everyone,” he says finally. “Everyone’s dead.”

            Noiz’s gaze falls from Koujaku’s eyes down to his chest, then back to the side of his face.

            “Shit,” he whispers. That’s all he can say. And somehow that’s comforting.

            “Yeah,” Koujaku nods. “Shit.”

            “What happened?”

            Koujaku licks his bottom lip again.

            “Ryuuhou told me… not to let my anger get the best of me. Or the tattoo would – but I – I was _so angry_ about _so much_ and I – I don’t know, I was _young_.”

            Noiz is still quiet and unrelentingly passive. It’s encouraging.

            “One day, I flew into a rage,” Koujaku says quietly. “I let the anger get the best of me. And I don’t remember everything that happened… but…”

            His words become slower, more spaced apart, but he manages to get them out:

            “I… killed… everyone. My father… his wife… the yakuza… and… I killed… my… mother.”

            Noiz hangs his head. Suddenly the words come much quicker.

            “And then I came back. And I saw my father bleeding out. And I saw yakuza men scattered around, I saw my father’s wife somewhere – I saw my mother take her last breath. And I realized what I’d done, and I realized I was a monster. I had killed everyone – so I figured the only one left was myself.”

            “But technically – it was that tattoo. It wasn’t you –”

            “It _was_ me,” Koujaku interrupts angrily. “It was the _most_ me there is, it was the most absolute, primal me that exists. It was who I really am, deep down. I’m a fucking monster.”

            “No, you’re not,” Noiz says, his voice rising as well. “You’re who you want to be. You want to be good. You want to suppress that anger that makes you a monster. You don’t _want_ to be a monster. So you’re not. It’s fine to – feel that way deep down, as long as you try not to _be_ that. Trust me, I know what it’s like to be a monster. You’re _not_ a monster.”

            “Shut up,” Koujaku says instinctually. “Your father called you a monster because he was just as abusive as mine. If you really think I’m not a monster, there’s no way _you_ are.”

            Noiz makes a sound from the back of his throat as his head snaps up. Koujaku jumps a bit and looks at him in confusion.

            “Say that again.”

            Koujaku furrows his brows.

            “What?”

            “Say that again.”

            “Say what again?”

            “What you just fucking said. Say it again.”

            “I don’t understand.”

            “Say what you just fucking said – you’re fucking useless.”

            Koujaku rolls his eyes.

            “I said if you really think I’m not a monster, then there’s no way that _you’re_ a monster.”

            “Say it again.”

            Koujaku cocks his head to the side and sighs.

            “If I’m not a – oh.” He stops midsentence when it finally clicks. He clears his throat and says, “Noiz… you’re not a monster.”

            Noiz’s voice becomes a whisper.

            “One more time,” he asks desperately. Koujaku watches him solemnly.

            “You’re not a monster.”

            Noiz takes a harsh, shallow breath and his eyes flutter closed and then spring back open almost immediately. He looks away, toward a window, then turns his face away completely. Koujaku would be endeared if he wasn’t so concerned, and just as he’s about to ask if he’s okay, Noiz turns back and his voice is deep and solid.  

            “So… if you were going to kill yourself… what are you doing sitting on my couch?”

            Koujaku closes his eyes and puts his head in his hands.

            “I thought I had nothing left.” His voice is muffled between his fingers but he pushes through it. “I thought I had destroyed everything and there wasn’t anything left to live for. I had my sword ready but then I thought – of – something…”

            “What?”

            Koujaku lifts his head.

            “ _Aoba.”_

Noiz looks surprised. He raises his eyebrows and parts his lips and then finally turns away for a moment and shakes his head.

            “Fuck,” he mutters.

            “I had already known him. For years. I moved here when I was young and met him. I protected him from bullies. I don’t know if he always appreciated it,” Koujaku laughs. “But he was the only person I had for so long. And I just – he just came to me. He just popped into my head. If I died, who would protect him? Who was protecting him _right then_ , in that moment? I had to find him. I ran. I don’t know what happened to the bodies, but my mother and I had been mostly kept a secret so I just hoped no one would realize anyone was missing and chalk it up to yakuza dealings… I guess they did. I’ve been here ever since.”

            “Fuck me,” Noiz says. “You _are_ in love with Aoba.”

            Koujaku shrugs.

            “It’s not a crush on a childhood friend. In the end, Aoba was the only thing I had to live for so of course I love him. And of course I fell _in_ love with him. But lately, I’ve been wondering – if… I found… someone else worth living for – maybe I’d fall in love with them instead.”

            Noiz turns back and meets his eyes again. He knows what Koujaku is implying even if Koujaku ignores it, so there’s no point in ignoring it anymore. Koujaku wants to fall in love with Noiz.

            “I’ve gotten pretty good at locking things away. Not exactly bottling them up, obviously. They still come out sometimes, when I’m angry, you’ve seen that, but – I just. I don’t want to be angry anymore.” Noiz smiles sadly and Koujaku continues, “I don’t know why I do this. Why I don’t understand the severity of something right away. When we first had sex, I just – didn’t think about it. It didn’t hit me until I called you the next morning. I was able to make a conscious decision to _call_ you and invite you to a _party_. I just didn’t let myself think about it.”

            “That’s what happens when you bottle things up.”

            “I just _said –_ I don’t bottle things up. I can’t!” Koujaku says in frustration. “I feel things. I feel them freely. I just – would rather feel them when it’s appropriate.”

            “That’s not how emotions works,” Noiz says. “You have to feel them _when_ you feel them. If you ignore them, that’s bottling them up.”

            “Yeah, you’d know so much about that, right?” Koujaku scoffs. “You’re what, twenty? And have said yourself you don’t _want_ to connect with people?”

            “Maybe I don’t want to because I don’t know _how_ ,” Noiz’s voice is shaking when he interrupts Koujaku and Koujaku is a little shocked. “It doesn’t mean I don’t let myself feel what I feel. It doesn’t mean I don’t fucking hate myself every time I fuck something up. _Again_.”

            Koujaku can’t answer. He feels like the conversation has sort of gotten away from him until he realizes that he just confessed to the murders he’s committed and Noiz hasn’t run away. Noiz hasn’t even started to worry about him. Noiz isn’t concerned at all. Noiz doesn’t think he’s a monster. Noiz just turned this into his own problems, really. But – wait.

            Noiz doesn’t think he’s a monster.

            “So,” Noiz’s voice explodes into the room, like he’s trying to bridge the awkward gap between what he’s just said and now, “why are you telling me this? Why haven’t you told Aoba?”

            “Come on,” Koujaku says with a sad smile. “I can’t tell Aoba. What if he hated me?”

            Noiz nods slowly for a few moments.

            “Well,” he takes a breath. “I don’t understand why he doesn’t hate you already.”

            “Shut up!” Koujaku shouts, though he knows Noiz is trying to rile him up.

            “So if he doesn’t hate you already… I don’t think he’d hate you if you opened up to him.”

            Koujaku tilts his head in agreement and stares at the floor.

            “And,” Noiz continues, “why would you come to me with this instead of him? Why was I the first person you chose to tell? Why not Mizuki, even? Why me?”

            He knew that was coming. He’s come to terms with this. This is okay.

            “It seemed like you somehow already knew,” he says. “Like you knew from the first day you met me. It just felt safe.”

            “Safe?”

            Koujaku shrugs.

            “So,” Noiz says, “you’re not mad that I pulled away your hair to look at your tattoo?”

            “I was,” Koujaku says quickly. “But then I just took it as a sign. That it was okay to feel safe. Finally.”

            Noiz meets Koujaku’s gaze one last time. They’re close; Noiz’s knees are almost touching Koujaku’s, though his hand left his back ages ago. Koujaku wonders if they’ll share their first real, deep kiss, when Noiz’s hand reaches slowly to his hair. He pulls back the same strands he did a week ago but this time Koujaku doesn’t yell. Koujaku leans his head into Noiz’s palm and feels his fingers dance along the lines of his tattoo. He feels his thumb press softly against the part of him that hasn’t been seen or touched in years and Koujaku feels so safe.

            Noiz gathers some hair in between his fingers and then stares at Koujaku’s lips but Koujaku isn’t ready to let go of the warmth of his hand so he puts his own on top of Noiz’s and they sit like that for what feels like hours. It’s only been three minutes. When Noiz leans in to kiss him, Koujaku turns his head away and stands up. He walks to the door and considers reminding Noiz one last time before he leaves that he’s not a monster, but it seems a little cheesy and dramatic, so he walks out in silence.

            He hopes Noiz knows, though, that he’s not a monster.


	12. close up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> listen... i'm starting to speak like you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [suggested listening](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=32udqal_lyQ)

            Koujaku doesn’t quite understand how Mizuki is so strong. He’s seen him take down a man almost three times his size. He’s a leader of a Rib team and though, admittedly, his involvement in said Rib team has diminished a bit since his Morphine incident, he’s still the most respected leader on the island. Not to mention the most feared. And Koujaku has seen him spar since his release from the hospital with some other Dry Juice members – even Beni Shigure members – and he hasn’t lost yet. Koujaku isn’t sure he’s ever seen him lose.

            Which is why it’s so baffling how Mizuki ends up head-over-heels about people so often. Koujaku has seen him at his most adrenaline-filled, bleeding and grinning after a fight. And Koujaku has seen him at his most in-love, elbows on the bar and chin in his hands, staring at the door expectantly, waiting for someone to walk in.

            “I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone?” Koujaku shakes his head at his friend from across the bar. Mizuki cocks his head to him and stares him down pointedly.

            “Well, I’m not surprised,” he scoffs. “You’re never around lately. And you never ask me how I’m doing.”

            “Mizuki!” Koujaku cries. Mizuki smiles but his words cut Koujaku deep. “I didn’t mean to. I’ve had a lot going on lately.”

            “Apparently,” Mizuki says under his breath. Koujaku furrows his brows. There’s no way that Mizuki doesn’t know about Noiz. Mizuki has been aware since day one, Koujaku is sure of it. But he still doesn’t want to be the one to tell him.

            “I would like to meet him,” Koujaku says with an exaggerated flutter of his eyelids. “I would like to make sure he’s worthy.”

            “Sure,” Mizuki shrugs, taking a step back and pounding his fist lightly on the bar. “We can go on a double date sometime.”

            “We what?”

            The question catches Koujaku off guard. It takes a couple seconds for him to remember that he can take literally anyone on one date with Mizuki and his new boyfriend, that Mizuki is  _not_ implying that Koujaku already  _has_ anyone to take on a date, but he’s thinking about what it would be like to take Noiz on a date, to see him dressed nicely, maybe in a black button-up, to see him get tired by the end of the night and rest his head on Koujaku’s shoulder. That could be nice.

            “What’s wrong?” Mizuki asks suddenly. “There are plenty of girls who would want to go on a date with you, aren’t there?”

            “You flatter me,” Koujaku mutters as he stands abruptly and leaves the bar to go to the bathroom. As he stands at the urinal, he goes back to this fantasy date with Noiz he’s started. Noiz in a tie, maybe. But with all his piercings still in, of course. He’d probably tease Koujaku all night, but Koujaku is weirdly okay with that, in this hypothetical scenario. He’s also okay with the thought of kissing Noiz goodnight. It would be their first  _real_ kiss, a kiss that didn’t follow a rough blowjob in a bathroom stall. That could be nice.

            He half-expects Mizuki’s new boyfriend to be there by the time he comes back out, but Mizuki sits alone on the stool next to Koujaku’s and when Koujaku takes a seat again, Mizuki heaves a sigh so great that his shoulders rise and fall dramatically. Koujaku rests an arm on the bar and looks at him.

            “What’s wrong?”

            Mizuki shrugs again.

            “I don’t know. Things still feel…”

            Mizuki doesn’t finish his thought. The image of him getting on plane and Koujaku never seeing him again flashes through his mind. He hasn’t thought about that in a while. He hasn’t really had time to. He forgot how much that idea scares him.

            “Confusing?” he offers. He doesn’t really want Mizuki to finish the thought, but he figures if he doesn’t talk to him about it, he can’t really comfort him. And if he doesn’t comfort him, he could wake up one morning and Mizuki could be gone.

            “I guess,” he says quietly. “Maybe… empty.”

            “Empty?” Koujaku asks. “How?”

            “I’m not sure. You know, I still have nightmares. It’s not surprising, of course, but it doesn’t make them any less awful.”

            “Mizuki,” Koujaku whispers, putting a hand on his back. It was so comforting when Noiz did it to him. He hopes it’s even half as comforting to Mizuki now.

            “Sometimes I wonder if all the connections I have with people are real,” he says. Koujaku has no idea what that means but he’s still a little offended.

            “Our connection is real.”

            “Is it?” Mizuki asks defensively, turning to stare Koujaku right in the eye. Koujaku is taken aback. “Because it always feels like you’re keeping something from me.”

            Koujaku is lost to Mizuki’s steely glare. Mizuki doesn’t break it off either, and they’re trapped in a staring contest until Koujaku realizes that he has to tell Mizuki.

            He knew this day would come, that his best friends would have to know about his past, but he didn’t think it would be in a noisy bar on a Wednesday afternoon. It should be easy, he thinks, he just told Noiz about it two days ago, and it was so much easier – and he felt so much better afterwards. He hasn’t spoken to Noiz since then, but he also hasn’t been arrested, either, so something tells him Noiz isn’t exactly going to rat him out. Still, that’s not really what he’s worried about.

            He doesn’t know if Mizuki will still accept him. Noiz might not think he’s a monster, but what if Mizuki does? Mizuki has been through so much – Mizuki has looked two monsters right in the eyes. Mizuki will know a monster when he sees one. But if Koujaku doesn’t trust his best friends, then what’s the point of having them? If Koujaku doesn’t tell him, he risks losing him. If Mizuki thinks Koujaku can’t tell him his darkest secrets, he might leave. Koujaku doesn’t know which is worse.

            He considers what to start with before he opens his mouth:

            “I hate that tattoo design you have framed on your counter.”

            “What are you talking about?” Mizuki asks angrily. He thinks Koujaku is joking. Koujaku is not joking.

            “The one framed on your counter,” he repeats. “I fucking hate it. Get rid of it.”

            “No,” Mizuki says. “Stop being an asshole.”

            “Is it by a man named Ryuuhou?”

            “Yeah,” Mizuki says in surprise, seemingly impressed. “How do you know his art?”

            Koujaku rolls his eyes. Ryuuhou’s “art” is all over his body. It’s Mizuki who doesn’t exactly recognize it.

            “Ryuuhou is responsible for – terrible things that happened to my family. Get rid of that design.”

            “ _What_?” Mizuki asks breathlessly. Koujaku’s actually glad for that reaction. It means Mizuki believes him immediately and with no reservations. Mizuki does trust him. Koujaku nods.

            “He worked for the yakuza,” he says. “Well – he was hired by yakuza at one point. Get rid of it.”

            “How do you know this?”

            Koujaku feels his heart start to beat faster – something it unequivocally did not do with Noiz. He’s starting to understand that this was easier with him because he wasn’t scared of his reaction. Not because he wasn’t scared to lose Noiz, but because felt safe with Noiz. A part of Noiz would understand, and did. He’s actually terrified of losing Noiz, but that’s when he realizes that Mizuki loves him. Mizuki will understand.

            Mizuki will also understand if he’s not able to admit to everything right away.

            “My father was yakuza,” he tells him. “He had Ryuuhou tattoo me.”

            “What the fuck?” Mizuki is even more breathless than before. “Those are Ryuuhou’s?”

            “Yes,” Koujaku tells him. “And he’s a sadistic, vile fucking man. Don’t look up to him. You’re too good for that.”

            Koujaku jumps a bit at how immediately Mizuki is out of his seat and tearing down papers and grabbing framed pictures from his shop. There aren’t many, but enough that Koujaku feels like the place is somewhat barer after he’s done. Mizuki throws away all of Ryuuhou’s designs – some of which Koujaku would have never known were Ryuuhou’s. Someone asks him if he’s alright and he shrugs apathetically, as if this was the easiest decision he’s ever made in his life.

            And it is the easiest decision Mizuki’s ever made, Koujaku realizes, because Mizuki loves him. Koujaku feels like the least he can do is work up to telling him everything one day soon.

            And later that night, Koujaku is trying to work up the nerve to tell Aoba. He sits in his room with him, alone; Ren is downstairs with Tae-san and Aoba is mindlessly clicking around on the computer as Koujaku stretches along his bed. Maybe he should start off with a joke.

            “Looking for bedroom toys?”

            That’s not a joke. That’s awkward. Why did he say that? Aoba turns to him in disgust.

            “What? No!” he shouts. “I’m looking at chairs!”

            “You do lead an exciting life,” Koujaku says monotonously and he hears Aoba scoff from the back of his throat.

            “You sound like Noiz,” he mutters and Koujaku perks up. He does. He sounds just like Noiz. This is ridiculous. He rubs his temples with his thumb and forefinger and ignores the accusation.

            “Hey,” he says softly, desperate to steer the conversation in a different direction. “I have something to tell you.”

            It’s strange, seeing Aoba sitting on the foot of the bed with his legs crossed in front of him like he used to when they were children. It’s strange because as a child, he knew he felt strongly about Aoba. More strongly than he did about anyone else. And he knows that this is going to come out of leftfield for Aoba, but he so quickly dropped his mouse and crawled onto the bed with him because that’s what they do. They sit on Aoba’s bed and talk about things. Sometimes they’re big things. Sometimes they’re just teasing each other for two hours. Sometimes they’re silly confessions. Sometimes they’re serious confessions. This is one of those ‘serious confessions’ times, and Koujaku is suddenly very aware that those have always been very few and far between.

            “This is hard,” he says and Aoba suddenly looks very concerned.

            “Are you okay?” he asks, stitching his brows together and cocking his head to the side.

            “I’m fine,” he says. “But – I told – hm.”

            He shakes his head to clear it of all the extraneous thoughts. He doesn’t need Aoba to know where this is coming from. He doesn’t need to tell him that he’s revealed secrets to Noiz and Mizuki so now he’s chosen to do the same with him, because that’s not exactly true. He  _wants_ Aoba to know this. He’s always wanted Aoba to know this. And it’s still hard. It’s still  _too_ hard. Koujaku has a bad habit of assuming he’ll destroy everything he loves, and he’s always meant to shield Aoba from that, which is why he’s always kept this a secret, but maybe that just isn’t working anymore.

            “Aoba, I just needed you – to know something… that’s really intense. And it might change how you think of me. But it happened a long time ago, and it – it isn’t like it sounds.”

            “Change how I think of you?” Aoba says. “I’ve known you for a long time. Nothing will change how I think of you.”

            It’s nice to hear, but Koujaku shakes his head. He doubts that very much.

            “The only reason I’m back here is because of you,” he says quickly, hoping that if he simply forces it out, the rest will follow. “The only reason I ever came back to Midorijima is because of you.”

            Aoba is obviously confused. He cocks his head to the side.

            “What do you mean?”

            “When I – lost – my mother,” Koujaku chokes, “I thought – there wasn’t much left worth living for. And I thought – I tried to kill myself.”

            “Koujaku,” Aoba whispers abruptly, reaching out and taking one of Koujaku’s hands in both of his own. That’s all he says. It’s more of a reactionary exclamation than an interruption. Koujaku bites his bottom lip. His heart is racing.

            “And I never told you this because – how could I?” he says with a sad chuckle. “But I realized there was something else, and it was you… and so I came back here. To Midorijima. Instead of killing myself.”

            Aoba shakes his head in disbelief. He opens his mouth but no words come out and Koujaku isn’t surprised. He’s not surprised that Aoba is speechless, and he’s not surprised that that was the only part of the story he thinks he can choke out for right now. This is progress though, right?

            He looks down at his Coil with the sudden desire to message Noiz.

            “Hold on,” he mutters as he types out  _‘meet me later’_ but Aoba grabs his other hand before he can hit send.

            “What are you doing?” he asks. “Stop. This is a big deal.”

            “I know it is,” Koujaku whines, looking up at his face. “I was terrified to tell you.”

            “But why?” Aoba asks, shaking his hands. Koujaku hopes he doesn’t notice the message or whom it’s to or what it says, but Aoba seems far too preoccupied to look.

            “I didn’t want you to think – anything strange about me.”

            “Strange? Like what?”

            “It’s a lot of pressure,” Koujaku offers, wrangling one wrist free and hitting send. He takes Aoba’s hand back in his and they resituate on the bed.

            Then it suddenly hits him that he’s holding Aoba’s hand on his bed. It hits him that he’s finally doing the thing that he’s wanted for so long, the  _only_ thing he’s wanted this bad for this long. To hold Aoba’s hand, knowing that they love each other. And he does. Aoba does love him. And Koujaku knows that. This actually feels like enough.

            “It’s not any pressure,” Aoba says softly, “to know someone thinks you’re worth living for.”

            Koujaku frowns as his chest swells and he looks away. Aoba understands him. Aoba’s hand is so soft and warm. He can’t simply fall out of love with him. Not this quickly, at least.

            “I’m happy you feel that way,” he says. Aoba squeezes his hand.

            “Is that all you wanted to tell me?” he asks. Koujaku is about to say no, there’s so much more, when his Coil goes off. He pauses for a moment and then nods.

            “For right now,” he says.

            “What does that mean?”

            “It’s hard – to – open up,” he manages, and Aoba nods at him.

            “But it’s okay to,” he tells him, his grip still unwavering. “Especially to your friends who love you.”

            Koujaku looks up at him again in surprise. That’s right.  _Aoba loves him._  He smiles slightly and nods again.

            “If you trust me,” he starts slowly, “to open up to you in time… can I trust that you’ll still love me afterwards?”

            Aoba hardly answers. He seems a bit choked up. He rolls his eyes angrily and throws their hands to the side as he sits up on his knees and pulls Koujaku into a hug. This is a little intimate for Aoba, so Koujaku takes advantage and wraps his arms around his best friend too, and holds him tight, until he feels ready to let go.

            Then Aoba says, “I trust you. You can trust me, too. You can tell me anything, Koujaku. You could tell me you’ve killed someone and I wouldn’t stop caring about you.”

            Koujaku chokes on his spit and thanks whatever power exists that Ren knocks on the door at that exact moment. Aoba isn’t paying enough attention to notice how red with nerves Koujaku’s cheeks get and he takes the moment between Ren telling Aoba that he’s needed downstairs and Aoba turning to tell him to hang on a second to catch his breath. Then Aoba is gone and Koujaku is stuck thinking about how to get the rest out, not only to Aoba but also to Mizuki –

            Then he realizes Ren is still in the room.

            “Ren,” he calls, glad to forget it all for a moment. “How’s everything?”

            “Fine,” Ren nods. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

            “Ah, I meant – how are you?”

            Ren smiles.

            “Also fine. I’ve gone two weeks without a moment of physical weakness. It seems I’m finally used to this body.”

            Koujaku raises his eyebrows with a grin.

            “That’s incredible,” Koujaku says. He still steers clear of actually bringing up the circumstances of Ren’s physical form, but it’s good to hear. He wants Ren to be healthy. He wants Ren to be able to take care of Aoba, even if Koujaku is highly aware that Aoba is fully capable of taking care of himself.

            “Yes,” Ren nods, “and I have been feeling healthier mentally, as well. Things are getting back to normal.”

            Koujaku laughs. Not because Ren is particularly amusing, but because nothing is normal anymore for himself. He stands up from the bed and walks to Ren, leans against the doorframe and takes a breath.

            “Can I ask you something somewhat personal?”

            “Of course,” Ren says. “Friends are allowed to do that.”

            Koujaku smiles.

            “What did you do when you realized you were in love with Aoba?”

            Ren cocks his head in surprise. He obviously wasn’t expecting that, but he seems to be mulling it over more than he is unwilling to answer.

            “I became unlike myself,” he says finally. “Of course, that was because of the Allmate bug. I was still inside the Allmate form and when all my human memories came back to me… it was a shock. I felt trapped by myself and I couldn’t get out. I ran away from Aoba because I couldn’t handle it. When he Scrapped himself, and subsequently me, he found out the truth, which included my feelings for him. He accepted me just as he accepted his other self, as well. But it’s fair to say, although I was compromised technologically – I couldn’t recognize myself for a moment. It was strange.”

            Koujaku can’t answer. Ren has effectively put these past few months into words and it’s then that he remembers he has a message to check. He looks down at his Coil quickly and sees,  _“name the place, nerd,”_ and he has to take a breath to calm himself.

            “Wow,” he says. “How did you – I mean, what if Aoba – didn’t love you back?”

            “I’ve always loved Aoba,” Ren says with such a calm conviction that Koujaku is mesmerized. “There are many different kinds of love. And I realize that even if he didn’t love me the way I loved him, I could still love him and take care of him. Thankfully, he did love me the way I love him. But if he hadn’t, I still would have been here for him always. No matter what. I worry though, that something bad could have happened. I feel a great amount of emotion for him. And that if it hadn’t been returned, I could have turned into something terrible. It’s hard to explain. I feel a monster deep inside of me could have escaped. But now I see that if he ever falls out of love with me… I’ll still be here for him.”

            Koujaku is stunned.

            “That’s what you do for people you love,” Ren adds and Koujaku feels his eyes sting. He manages to hold back the tears enough to smile and move toward him.

            “Remember when you were an Allmate,” he says, reaching towards his hair. “And I used to rub your head? That meant I love you,” Koujaku tells him, patting the strands of soft, black hair on Ren’s head. It’s not totally unlike his Allmate form. “Something tells me I should come up with something a bit less patronizing now, though.”

            “It’s fine,” Ren smiles, and when Koujaku pulls his hand away, Ren turns to bunt his head into Koujaku’s neck. He’s surprised at the sudden show of affection, and raises his eyes in surprise.

            “What was that?” he asks with a laugh.

            “That meant I love you, too,” Ren tells him. Koujaku shakes his head in disbelief at how happy he is, and dinner that night is better than it’s been in months. Tae-san gives him some donuts to go, and thirty minutes later, Noiz is very happy about that.

            “How many do you have?” he asks, eyeing the bag in Koujaku’s hand. He drops it on Noiz’s coffee table with a smirk.

            “I’m not sure. But you can have them all.”

            Noiz scowls at him but dives for the bag anyway. He’s already eaten one with another in his hand before Koujaku even sits down fully on the couch next to him.

            “That’s disgusting,” he says.

            “That’s fine,” Noiz answers through a mouth of donut. “I don’t care if you think I’m disgusting.”

            “I don’t think  _you’re_ disgusting,” Koujaku says, lifting one leg and resting his foot on the opposite knee. “I meant how quickly you’re  _inhaling_  those is disgusting.”

            “Still don’t care,” Noiz says, his mouth now full of two donuts and Koujaku can hardly understand him. “Very romantic clarification, though. Thank you.”

            Koujaku rolls his eyes and looks away. Noiz eats a few more donuts in silence before he finally leaves for a moment to get a glass of water and when he sits back down on the couch he’s closer to Koujaku than he was before. He smacks his lips obnoxiously as he swallows and stares at him idly.

            “So,” he says, his voice drone-like and heavy. “Why’d you want to meet up?”

            Koujaku purses his lips and frowns.

            “To give you the donuts,” he lies. “Why? What did you think I wanted?”

            “Do you want to fuck?”

            Koujaku sighs.

            “Maybe later,” he says. The truth is, he just wanted to be near Noiz. Talking to Mizuki and Aoba – even Ren – was so nerve-wracking. He’s so glad it happened, and can only think positively about talking to them about his past even more, but it makes him anxious, too. The thought of seeing Noiz calmed him down. He feels safe here.

            “Well, thanks for the donuts. But I was going to go troll for some dick tonight, so if you don’t want to hang out, maybe you should head on home.”

            “That’s so disgusting,” Koujaku says, shaking his head and Noiz laughs. He was joking. Koujaku knows that. But he hates the way Noiz expresses himself sometimes.

            “ _That’s_ disgusting?” Noiz asks. “Or  _I’m_ disgusting?”

            “I’m going to kill you,” Koujaku says, and at first it’s fine. He says that sort of thing all the time. It doesn’t mean anything, because nobody knows. But then he remembers – Noiz knows.

            And Noiz seems to recognize that. He stops smiling and Koujaku stares at him, slack-jawed and shaking his head.

            “I didn’t mean that – seriously,” he says but Noiz rolls his eyes.

            “Obviously,” he tells him. “I’m not scared that you’re going to kill me.”

            It’s sadly relieving, hearing that from Noiz. It shouldn’t be – it shouldn’t be surprising that Noiz really doesn’t judge him. But it is, because it’s still such a wonderful shock that he didn’t bail immediately and Koujaku can’t shake that. He nods at him silently, his eyebrows raised and his lips curled into a sad smile. Noiz sighs heavily.

            “Are you okay?” he asks suddenly.

            “Am – what?”

            “Are you okay?” he repeats. Not with annoyance, not with sarcasm, but in genuineness. He’s honestly asking Koujaku if he’s okay. Koujaku licks his lip before he honestly answers:

            “I told Mizuki about Ryuuhou today.”

            “You did?”

            “Not everything,” he clarifies. “Just that – he tattooed me. Just that he’s a bad person. And he immediately destroyed all the designs he had of his in his parlor.”

            “He had designs of his up?”

            “Yeah,” Koujaku nods. “He’s always been an idol of his.”

            “How the fuck have you not told him this already?”

            “Told him what?”

            “How did you deal with seeing that guy’s shit all over your friend’s bar?”

            Koujaku shrugs.

            “He didn’t know. It wasn’t that hard. I just ignored it. I didn’t want to upset him by telling him what a dick Ryuuhou was… I don’t know, now that you mention it. But it wasn’t difficult.”

            “That’s because you bottle shit up,” Noiz says smugly and Koujaku grunts.

            “No, it’s because I love Mizuki,” he says matter-of-factly. “And I thought it would be selfish of me to tell him that. But then I did today, and I realized it wasn’t selfish of me at all, because the first thing he did was jump up and throw away everything of Ryuuhou’s that was up. Because Mizuki loves me, too.”

            Noiz stares at him for a few seconds before a smile spreads on his face.

            “That’s pretty gay,” he says.

            “I’m not gay,” Koujaku tells him. “I’m bisexual.”

            Noiz laughs heartily, which makes Koujaku smile. He likes it when Noiz is genuinely happy.

            “Wanna be bisexual a little closer to me?” Noiz asks, but before he can get much closer, Koujaku puts a hand up to stop him.

            “Actually, I – I also told Aoba something today too,” he says and Noiz’s face falls immediately. He raises his eyebrows and pulls his head up.

            “Oh,” he says curtly. “What did you tell him?”

            “Just that – it was him that I thought of,” Koujaku says. Noiz knows what he’s talking about, so he doesn’t need to re-explain it to him. It’s hard to say the words, anyway and Koujaku feels as if Noiz knows that. “That it was him that made me come back.”

            “Oh,” Noiz nods thoughtfully. “What did he say?”

            “Just that he loved me,” Koujaku shrugs. “And that… he would love me even if I ended up telling him I’ve killed someone.”

            Noiz laughs.

            “That’s good, isn’t it?”

            “It’s weird.”

            “But good.”

            “I guess,” Koujaku looks away. “But I still couldn’t tell him. I don’t get it. I don’t understand why this is so hard. I don’t get why... I understand why I could tell you. But I don’t understand why it’s so hard to tell  _them_.”

            It occurs to Koujaku that this is the first time he’s ever talked to Noiz about his problems – about his  _current_ problems – like a  _friend_. He realizes that he just called Noiz up to hang out because he needed to  _talk_  about something that was bothering him. He realizes that Noiz doesn’t realize any of these things, and seems content to be sitting on his couch with Koujaku, listening to him, thinking about his problems. He realizes this is what he’s wanted.

            “Hm,” Noiz hums. He pauses for a moment before he says, “It seem to me that people who care about you give you the benefit of the doubt. Your story is horrifying. I understand why you have a hard time telling people. I don’t know why you’re not able to tell them, either. But you will, one day, when you can. And I bet they won’t react any differently than I did. Because they love you.”

            Koujaku perks up. He tilts his head to the side and all the thoughts that were previously swirling around his head have disappeared.

            “Wait… are you saying you reacted the way you did because you love me?”

            “Oh,” Noiz looks away, realizing his implications. “No. That’s not what I’m saying.”

            “That’s what you’re saying,” Koujaku teases, a smile spreading on his face.

            “It’s  _not_ ,” Noiz repeats.

            “It  _is_!” Koujaku says gleefully, pushing himself forward and advancing on him across the couch.

            “It’s  _not!”_ Noiz shouts, far more defensive than he needs to be, and somehow Koujaku knows he’s telling the truth. Noiz isn’t in love with him. Which is fine, because he isn’t in love with Noiz either. He puts his palms on either side of Noiz’s waist and thrusts his face into his.

            “I think you  _love_ me,” he says and Noiz wastes no time pressing their lips together. Koujaku smiles into him, lets him pull at the back of his hair and breathes in forcefully as Noiz refuses to let their lips part. He crashes into him, pulling Koujaku desperately on top of him and Koujaku is more than happy to oblige.

            “I don’t love you,” he mutters as he pulls Koujaku down by his cheeks to kiss him again.

            “I don’t love you either,” Koujaku tells him. Noiz stares at him for a few seconds, almost in disbelief, but then he nods.

            “Do you still love Aoba?”

            Koujaku wasn’t expecting that. He doesn’t know how to respond. Of course he still loves Aoba. He can’t just  _stop._ He can’t just fall  _out_ of love. If he could, he would have done that a long time ago.

            “I do,” he says. “But he doesn’t love me the same way I love him. So I’ll get over it.”

            “Will you?”

            Koujaku nods.

            “I have to,” he says. “And just – just because I feel a certain way for him… doesn’t mean I can’t – have feelings for – other people, too.”

            Noiz laughs softly.

            “You  _so_ love me,” he whispers, before he reaches up and kisses Koujaku again. Koujaku sighs.

            “You really don’t have feelings for me, though, right?”

            “Shit, no. Why do you even care?”

            Koujaku shakes his head, his mouth open to respond, but the words aren’t coming. He can’t put them together correctly in his head. He doesn’t like the thought that Noiz isn’t telling the truth; that Noiz  _does_ have feelings for him and will sleep with him despite his feelings for Aoba, if that’s the best he can get. Noiz is better than that. But he doesn’t know how to say that without giving himself away. He doesn’t know how to say that without admitting he’d like to fall in love with him.

            “Because you’re the one who wanted that,” he says finally. “You’re the one who wanted what we have to just be sex. And no feelings.”

            Noiz seems taken aback, as if he’d forgotten that. Now  _he_ can’t seem to think of the words he wants to use as his mouth gapes helplessly for several seconds before he closes it, meets Koujaku’s eyes, and nods.

            “That’s exactly what I want,” he says. “Now fuck me.”

            A chill runs down Koujaku’s back when he feels Noiz’s heels wrap around his waist and he shakes his head involuntarily.

            “No,” he tells him. “I told you this already. I don’t want to do that anymore.”

            “You... don’t want to fuck me anymore?”

            “No, I don’t – I don’t want to do it like we used to. I know what you mean by _'fuck_ ' you. And I don’t want to do it so – rough.”

            “You know why I like it rough,” Noiz says. “I told you. I can’t feel it. I can’t feel you.”

            Koujaku’s chest burns for a few seconds. He closes his eyes to try to handle those words again –  _“I can’t feel you” –_ and then he nods.

            “But I don’t want to be  _mean_ ,” he says. “I’m not in love with you. But I don’t hate you anymore, Noiz. You know this.”

            Noiz squints at him as if he doesn’t believe him in the slightest, but then his lips curl slowly into an almost defiant smile.

            “Yeah,” he says. “I don’t hate you anymore, either.”

            Koujaku accidentally grabs his hand when he comes that night and has to let go as soon as he realizes, but Noiz doesn’t seem to mind. He hardly seems to register it. In fact, Koujaku thinks Noiz might have tightened his fingers around his before he pulled away, but Koujaku decides to not to say anything. He doesn’t need Noiz hating him again.


	13. some racing, some stopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> with your heart on your sleeve, there's no secret you can keep

            Koujaku has been spending far too much time away from home – for having just been spending too much time _at_ home, however, he decides that it’s forgivable. What he’s really worried about is that he’s spending all his time at _Noiz’s_ home – and when he was spending all the time at his _own_ home, it was to avoid Noiz. Koujaku shakes his head and looks over at the still-sleeping Noiz next to him and wonders when he actually wakes up. Koujaku is never around when Noiz gets up, and he has to admit that Noiz fast asleep is very endearing, but he sort of wants to know what it’s like to see Noiz wake up.

            Still, he has hair to cut today so he gets up and takes a shower in Noiz’s too-fancy bathroom and heads out. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t say goodbye because he ends up back at his place that night anyway and he doesn’t remember when this became his routine. He makes the mental note to call Mizuki or Aoba or someone – just to let them know he’s okay and he’s simply been on a weeklong sex vacation with a hot blond he met a while ago. Hopefully they won’t ask any further questions. He could leave that part out altogether of course but… he kind of wants to brag. Even if they have no idea who he’s really bragging about.

            Noiz is almost insatiable. It’s as if Koujaku has found Noiz’s ultimate fetish: speaking specifically about their pasts, about things they’ve never told anyone before, and then speaking in vague terms about their presents – about things that they aren’t telling anybody about now.  They know they’re talking about each other, but they won’t bring themselves to admit it, and that way they can avoid the hard parts. The parts where they don’t know what they are, which Koujaku believes is mostly his own fault. If Aoba weren’t still in the back of his mind, this would probably be a lot easier.

            But Noiz doesn’t seem to mind. Noiz doesn’t mind talking to him about Aoba and he doesn’t mind trying to work through what his issues are. Koujaku can’t understand that, why Noiz suddenly doesn’t mind that this relationship got deeper than just rough sex, but he also doesn’t really care to question it anymore. He likes it. He likes talking to Noiz. He doesn’t want it to change.

            Part of it might be that Koujaku doesn’t mind helping Noiz work through his own feelings too, and he’s surprised to find that Noiz is incredibly open about them. Koujaku told him one night with a laugh that he’d changed so much, that he wasn’t the Noiz he used to know, but Noiz took offense. He told him he had always been this way, it wasn’t his fault that Koujaku just didn’t know him and then he left the room. Koujaku found him in the living room a few minutes later and apologized. Noiz nodded and Koujaku sat down next to him and asked him to keep telling him about the time he and Emmerich passed a piece of paper through the bottom of the door, adding lines on to it turn by turn, ending up with a messy masterpiece of their own collaboration. Emmerich still has that paper, Noiz thinks, if he hasn’t thrown it away by now, at least.

            Noiz asks Koujaku about his mother, and Koujaku always smiles softly when he thinks about her like this: when someone _wants_ to know about her. When someone _asks_. He tells him in detail about her long, black hair and how he used to play with it as a baby. He tells him that she taught him as a child how to braid it and how she’d let him brush the knots away for her. He tells him that she wore it in a bun during the day but at night she’d let it down and Koujaku could practically get lost in it, and sometimes he wanted to. He tells him that sometimes he tried to hide from his father in it, that he never felt safer than in his mother’s arms. He tells him that he’s always been good with hair because of her, and that’s why he’s a hairdresser now. He tells him he grew his own hair out shortly after she died – well, after he _killed_ her. He uses those words, because he can now. He can use those words with Noiz, and Noiz doesn’t even flinch.

            Noiz can’t wrap his head around it and Koujaku is heartbroken for him every time. It’s hard enough for Koujaku to know that he’s the reason his own mother is gone, but to imagine never having her at all is unbearable. Koujaku always starts to put his hand on Noiz’s when he makes a comment on how foreign loving mothers are to him, but he always pulls away at the last second. He has to remember that: they’re still not holding hands.

            Koujaku wishes he could offer to be Noiz’s loving mother and not sound ridiculous in more ways than one. And maybe it’s a little perverse, too, since he always ends up naked and on top of him a few hours later. This is a weird kind of love. It’s a love where he wants to take care of Noiz the way a parent would a child. He wants to know constantly that Noiz is okay, and he wants to make sure he’s never wanting for anything. He wants to protect him from the shitty things in the world and let him know that even if they do get to him, he didn’t deserve it. He wants to make Noiz happy. He wants to make Noiz laugh and smile and feel worthwhile. He also wants to have sex with him – like, a ton of sex. He loves having sex with Noiz. He wants to take care of Aoba and he has always been attracted to him, too, but this isn’t the same. Somehow, Noiz is different.

            They do end up at Black Needle again eventually, and no one mentions that they aren’t at each other’s throats this time. Noiz still teases him and he of course still teases back – in fact, he still gets incredibly annoyed with him at times – but it’s different now. Noiz’s teasing isn’t empty or antagonistic anymore. It isn’t so vague that it’s apparent he simply wants to get under Koujaku’s skin – it’s personal. He pushes Koujaku’s bangs back into place with some flirty statement that Koujaku can roll his eyes at, but he knows that Noiz is only doing it to help cover up his tattoo. He asks Koujaku how his date the other night went and Koujaku has to grin and admit that he had a great time, especially when he found out how flexible his date was (Mizuki retches from the back of his throat). He’s also, Koujaku’s noticed, stopped asking Aoba about his and Ren’s relationship and sex life. He’s stopped implying things to him about Koujaku. He’s silently acknowledging the same thing Koujaku told him weeks ago: it’s not the same. Now that he fully understands what he’s saying, he doesn’t want to say it anymore.

            And that’s to say nothing of the rest of the time they spend together that isn’t filled with good-natured hassling. Where they once ignored each other, now they push the limits to see just how much touching they can get away with without being caught. Koujaku is nervous at first – he’s far more anxious about being found out than Noiz is, but not because he’s ashamed of Noiz. It’s just a lot of explaining for a relationship he doesn’t quite understand himself still, and he’d rather not have to define it for the first time to anyone other than Noiz.

            But he has to admit: finding himself pushed against a brick wall in the back alleys is so exciting that he can hardly worry about being caught. In fact, that’s becoming half the fun of it.

            He groans into Noiz’s neck as he feels Noiz’s dick rub against his, and the younger boy puts both his hands against the wall, pinning him in between them. Then he thrusts forward and Koujaku doesn’t even know how loud he’s being as he shudders against him, grabbing him by the hips and grinding their erections together.

            “Do you need –?” he asks, hoping Noiz catches his drift. Noiz shakes his head.

            “No,” he says. “Just you.”

            “No,” Koujaku urges. “I want to watch you come.”

            “Not right now,” he tells him, using his right hand to grab his chin and pull his face toward him forcefully. “Right now it’s just about you.”

            “Then why is your dick out?” Koujaku counters and Noiz squeezes his cheeks together so he can’t speak. He’s sure he looks ridiculous and he’s even surer when Noiz thrusts against his dick again, his ladder piercings running along Koujaku’s length. He moans so loud that he runs out of breath and tries to pull his head away, but Noiz’s grip is strong.

            “Are you complaining?” he asks softly. “Do you want to go back in with your dick this hard?”

            “N-no,” Koujaku stutters and he can tell that Noiz is bluffing, as he continues to slowly rub against Koujaku, but that almost makes it worse.

            “What if I stopped?” he asks. “What if I made you go back in, thinking about how you could have gotten off right here, right now? Would you like that?”

            “ _No_ ,” Koujaku breathes, fairly certain he’s already close, if just because of Noiz’s words. Noiz is so good at this. He’s so good at this sudden, sadistic turn; his voice goes low and Koujaku is shocked at the things he thinks up to say, but then realizes he really shouldn’t be. Noiz is filthy. Koujaku loves it.

            “You wouldn’t?” he continues. “You don’t want to be hard? And thinking about this the entire night?” His hips are smooth and calm as he juts against Koujaku’s dick, far too slowly for Koujaku’s liking. “I’ll make you go back inside, reminding you the whole time that I was on top of you… you could feel my breath on your neck… I was happy to make you come… but you had to be a brat and ruin it, didn’t you?”

            “No,” Koujaku insists, finally starting to thrust his hips back into Noiz’s, but Noiz isn’t having that.

            “Stop,” he instructs loudly, finally taking his fingers off Koujaku’s face and pushing his waist harshly against the wall. “I think you should apologize to me, for being so difficult.”

            “I’m not going to – _apologize_ ,” Koujaku groans as the head of Noiz’s dick slides up his length slowly, the piercing at the end catching the bottom of his own head and rubbing over his slit.

            “If you don’t say you’re sorry then I’m going to leave you here like this,” he says. “Your choice.”

            “I’m sorry,” Koujaku says immediately. There’s no doubt in his mind that Noiz is serious, and to be honest, he loves when Noiz gets bossy.

            “Good,” Noiz coos into his ear, suddenly wrapping his hand around both dicks and jerking them off quickly. Koujaku almost buckles into his touch and has to wrap his arms around his neck.

            “I’m close,” he whispers, his hands roaming across Noiz’s back and shoulders and neck, finally finding a spot in his hair and pulling against the roots of his strands shamelessly.

            “I’ve hardly done anything,” Noiz says, his voice so low and warm in Koujaku’s ear that he can’t help but roll his ear into his lips. “You’re so desperate for me. Admit it. Admit you’re desperate for me.”

            “I am,” Koujaku whines, pulling hard against Noiz’s hair and thrusting his dick into Noiz’s grip.

            “ _Say it_.”

            “I’m desperate for you,” Koujaku tells him, and he means it.

            “Then are you going to come for me?”

            “ _Yes_ ,” Koujaku breathes, arching into him and just a few seconds later he’s coming all over their dicks, his shouts too loud for Noiz apparently, for he finds a hand covering his mouth almost immediately. He screams against his palm, now muffled but still strong, and he humps into Noiz’s hand repeatedly as he tries to pull him into a hug, shoving Noiz’s arm down unceremoniously as he tries to keep it against his lips. He’s hardly aware of the mess he’s making of both their clothes as he lets the orgasm wash over him, and he hates how high his voice gets as he comes down, little moans and whines escaping his lips until Noiz finally takes his hand away and looks him in the eye.

            “Good boy,” he says. Koujaku lets go of Noiz’s hair and lets his head fall back against the brick. Noiz smirks as he takes his tie off to clean them up and Koujaku tries to catch his breath as Noiz wipes the semen off his dick. He lets him stand there lazily, panting like a dog, and then he tosses his tie in the dumpster.

            “What about you?” Koujaku asks. “Come on. I want to see you come, now.”

            “Me?” Noiz points at his own chest and raises an eyebrow. “I’m going home. You stay here. Don’t come home for another thirty minutes. I’m timing you.”

            Koujaku is far too focused on what might be waiting for him once he gets through an agonizing half an hour with Mizuki, Aoba and Ren to realize right away that Noiz implied he’d be coming _home_. Noiz said not to come _home_ , and that hits Koujaku on his walk back to Noiz’s place. It hits him so hard that he stops in his tracks and wonders if Noiz meant to say that, or if it was just a random choice of words. He used to say, _“Come to my place,”_ or, “ _I’ll find you at your place,”_ but never “ _home_.”

            Koujaku is so breathless about it that he can hardly react to seeing Noiz in black thigh highs and lace panties, his wrists tied together on his own bed when he gets to Noiz’s place. All he can do is wonder if this really is _home_ now. Then he wonders if his place is _home_ too. He wonders if any place that he and Noiz are together is _home_ , and it’s not until Noiz says, “ _Are you just going to stare at me or are you going to do something?”_ that he even realizes he’s supposed to be getting him off.

            “How did you tie yourself up?” he asks with a smile. Noiz frowns.

            “I used my teeth,” he says, as if that’s the silliest question he’s ever heard. “Now use yours.”

            Koujaku obliges. But first, he has to make a few calls.

            The next morning he gets to see what Noiz is like when he wakes up.

            “I thought you had appointments.”

            Noiz’s voice is groggy in a way Koujaku has never heard before. It startles him a bit, as he’s been sitting in bed for almost three hours on his Coil. When he turns to look at the younger boy, he’s blinking slowly and pushing himself up on his arms to look at Koujaku. Koujaku is just as breathless now as he was last night.

            “I canceled them,” he blurts out. He didn’t mean to admit to that. He meant to think up a good lie, but it just came out.

            “Wh – why?” Noiz asks, rubbing the heel of his palm against his right eye. He’s a slow starter. That’s endearing.

            “I wanted to,” Koujaku shrugs.

            “Mm,” Noiz says, and Koujaku thinks that’s the end of it. Noiz is too tired to worry about being confused, but then he wraps an arm around Koujaku’s waist and pulls himself toward him. “You canceled them for _me_ ,” he coos. Koujaku scoffs.

            “Hardly,” he says unconvincingly. Noiz plants a kiss on his pelvic bone and then circles it with his tongue. Koujaku squirms and lets out a low groan. That feels so nice.

            “You wanted to have breakfast in _bed_ ,” Noiz continues. “And feed me _strawberries_ , and tell me how much you _love_ me.” He keeps pressing his lips and then his tongue against Koujaku’s skin and Koujaku has to admit, that doesn’t sound too bad.

            “If I wanted to have breakfast in bed, don’t you think I would have made breakfast already? I woke up three hours ago, you lazy shit.”

            “Don’t try to pull that on me,” Noiz mutters against his abs. “I know you can’t cook for shit.”

            “That’s slanderous,” Koujaku murmurs as Noiz makes his way down Koujaku’s stomach and eventually ends up straddling his knees, pulling down his sweatpants and wrapping his lips around his erection, sucking him off in less than ten minutes. Koujaku’s never had the best track record with early-morning stamina, and Noiz’s head bobbing up and down on his dick like it’s the most important thing he’s ever done doesn’t help.

            “You know what’s strange,” he says as he’s wiping the corners of his lips and Koujaku is once again trying to catch his breath because of him.

            “What?”

            “You’re easy to please for how high-maintenance you are.”

            “I’m not high-maintenance,” Koujaku scowls as he tries to adjust himself back into his sweatpants. Noiz raises his eyebrows and settles next to him on his pillows. Koujaku supposes it’s too much to wrap an arm around him and try to cuddle, so he contents himself with the simple proximity.

            “You’re the biggest princess I’ve ever met,” Noiz says. “But it’s okay. I like treating you like a princess.”

            “That’s ridiculous,” Koujaku says dismissively as he rolls over onto Noiz and starts to lay his body out against the bed. He runs his nails down his side, hard enough so he can feel it, but tries not to leave any marks. He used to like to see them. He used to like knowing that there was a visible path of him on Noiz’s body, but now he wants to protect it as much as he can. Still, he has to do something, so when he gets to Noiz’s hips, he digs them harshly into the flesh that he loves so much where Noiz’s ass starts and then starts to pull down his boxers. Noiz lets out a small hiss of breath but Koujaku doesn’t get his teeth on Noiz’s dick before his head is pulled back up and he’s met with serious eyes.

            “Hey,” Noiz says softly. “Seriously. Why did you cancel your appointments today?”

            Koujaku’s mouth goes dry because he knows he’s about to tell the truth.

            “I just wanted to know what you were like when you woke up in the morning.”

            Noiz furrows his brows.

            “Why?”

            “I don’t know.”

            Noiz pauses and then asks, “And what am I like?”

            Koujaku tilts his head and gives it some thought. He’s cute, honestly. He’s sleepy-eyed and slow and his body moves at a languid pace that captivates Koujaku. He’s quiet and honest for a few minutes. He says what he’s thinking instead of taking the time to word it in a way that doesn’t make him sound bad. He’s really….

            “Vulnerable,” Koujaku says, his voice getting caught in the back of his throat. Noiz frowns.

            “Trying to take advantage of me?”

            He’s joking, but Koujaku gets upset. He shakes his head quickly and lifts himself up on his palms to stare him in the eyes.

            “Of course not,” he insists. “I’ll never be here again when you wake up if you don’t want me to – ”

            “Shut up,” Noiz says, rolling his eyes. “I was just kidding.”

            “I know. But I’m not trying to take advantage of you.”

            “I know you’re not,” Noiz says, and then he tells Koujaku the most important thing he’s heard in years: “I trust you.”

            It’s as if a weight comes crashing down on top of him. It’s a responsibility, to not break this trust that he now knows he has. It’s sort of terrifying, the thought that someone as vulnerable as Noiz now trusts him and Koujaku has no idea how to actually take care of him. He knows how not to yell at him, how not to treat him like what’s happened to him was his fault – he knows the little things, the obvious things, but he doesn’t know how to actually make sure Noiz is safe, always. He doesn’t know if he’s the one that Noiz should be trusting. He doesn’t know if he can bear that responsibility.

            But somehow he’s not worried.

            “I trust you too,” he says, leaning down and kissing him softly, slowly, still able to taste himself on Noiz’s lips. When he pulls away he’s expecting a reluctant smile or a bratty scowl, but he sees almost concern and doubtfulness in Noiz’s eyes.

            “What?” he asks. Noiz squints at him.

            “Do you know why I li – um,” he coughs. “Do you know – why I stopped hating you?”

            “Why?”

            “Because I don’t understand you.”

            Koujaku frowns.

            “What do you mean?”

            “I mean… I mean, I’ve studied people a lot the past few years. There was no reason to get close to them. I didn’t want to give a shit about anyone and I didn’t want anyone to give a shit about me. But I spent so much time alone that I had nothing else to do but watch other people sometimes and one thing I know is that people either wear their heart on their sleeve or hide it away so no one can see it.”

            Koujaku cocks his head to the side.

            “Yeah?”

            “Yeah,” Noiz nods. “But you – hide your heart on your sleeve. And I can’t figure that out.”

            “What does that mean?”

            “You make these big spectacles of your feelings and it tricks people into thinking that they know how you feel, but really it’s locked away so deep in your head and only you know that. I can never tell when you’re telling the truth and when you’re hiding something.”

            “I’m telling the truth about you,” Koujaku says instantly, though he’s not entirely sure what that would mean to Noiz. He knows what it means inside his own head, but he’s never admitted those things to Noiz. Noiz smiles.

            “You’re telling the truth about Aoba, too.”

            Koujaku hesitates.

            “What do you mean?”

            “You really do love him,” Noiz says, “but you really want him to be happy with Ren. You’re getting over him.”

            “Yes,” Koujaku nods. “That’s true.”

            “And you may be telling the truth about me,” Noiz continues, “but – I don’t know what that truth is. And I don’t know if I can ever be sure.”

            Koujaku leans back on his feet, speechless.

            “How can you trust me then?”

            Noiz shrugs.

            “I just do,” he says. “Obviously you’re not going to hurt me on purpose anymore. I trust that you’re trying your best. That’s all anyone can expect of you.”

            Koujaku looks away for a moment. Noiz believes that Koujaku won’t hurt him, but he doesn’t think he could ever believe that Koujaku might love him? He’s not sure he understands, but it’s difficult to ask without admitting that he _is_ starting to love him. He licks his lips and shakes his head slowly as he gathers his thoughts.

            “I hated you so much before,” he says slowly, “because I saw you trying to hurt Aoba. And I love Aoba. And I want to hurt people who hurt the ones I love. And I started to care about you… because I realized you were… a lot like me. Obviously, our problems are very different, but… I think the fallout from them has been the same.”

            Noiz hums from the back of his throat and nods. He seems to agree. Koujaku continues:

            “And then I realized… you were hurting yourself. And like I said… I don’t let the people I care about get hurt.”

            Now Noiz looks away, to the wall on the side of the room, and blinks a few times, rapidly. He might be trying to blink away tears. Koujaku can’t tell.

            “I’m not trying to hurt myself,” he says finally, but Koujaku doesn’t want to hear it.

            “Yes, you are,” he seethes. “It’s all those little things. You’re still calling yourself a monster, even though you know your parents are assholes. You’ve accepted that they didn’t love you, which already hurts, but you can’t get past the fact that they were fucking wrong. I know it’s hard to stop thinking those things about yourself, _believe me,_ I really do. Which is why you need someone to remind you constantly. That you’re not. You’re not a monster.”

            Noiz cranes his neck far away and Koujaku lets him. He’s not going to let him keep thinking this about himself, but if he needs to look away to cry, that’s fine.

            “You think you have to be a substitute for Aoba, like that’s all you could be,” he says. “But it’s not. I’m not – saying I want to hold your hand. But you’re not Aoba. You’re not a replacement for him. You could never be Aoba. I’m here right now because I want to be with _you_. Not because I want to pretend you’re someone else.”

            “Shut up,” he says quietly, his voice hitching as he speaks, but Koujaku shakes his head again.

            “No!” he almost shouts, reaching down and gripping Noiz’s thighs. “I’m not going to shut up. I’m going to repeat myself. All the time! You’re not a monster and people care about you. Stop being so stupid about this.”

            When Noiz whips his face back, his eyes are wet but his face is angry. Koujaku scowls and holds strong, determined to make Noiz believe him.

            “If you’re going to repeat yourself all the time,” he says, his voice hot and cracking, “then do it. Say it again.”

            Koujaku leans down and lines his chest against Noiz’s, cradles his head in his arm and brings his lips to his ear:

            “You’re not a monster,” he says quietly. “And there – are – people – who love you.”

            “Like who?” he asks angrily. Koujaku pulls back and sighs. Noiz just wants him to say it out loud, but he’s not sure he can. Noiz trusts him. And he doesn’t want to lie to him on accident. What if he doesn’t love him? He’s so sure he does, but deep down, a part of himis a monster – he’s a fucking beast, and he isn’t so sure anymore that Noiz’s trust has been placed in the right person.

            “Emmerich,” he offers, and Noiz scoffs immediately from the back of his throat.

            “Get off me,” he says, pushing at Koujaku’s thighs. Koujaku is desperate but he’s starting to realize that getting Noiz to believe that he’s worthy of love might be just as long a process as admitting to his own past. And he’s starting to accept that that’s okay.

            “Fine,” he says, getting off the bed and tying off his sweatpants. “Fine, I’ll leave. But you’re the one who didn’t want to hold hands. You’re the one who told me this relationship was just blowjobs in a bathroom stall and sex so rough that I was sore the next day. I’m just doing what you told me to do.”

            He turns to leave, but Noiz calls out immediately:

            “Then what would you say if I told you I changed my mind?” he asks. “What would you say then? If I said I wanted it to be more than that, how would you answer that question instead?”

            “What question?”

            “Who could possibly care about a monster like me?”

            Koujaku rolls his eyes. If Noiz wants to be dramatic, Koujaku can be dramatic, too. He glares at him and crosses his arms.

            “Another monster who knows exactly how you feel.”

            They stare at each other blankly for what feels like forever, but Koujaku doesn’t mind. He doesn’t want to leave. He could stand here and look at Noiz for the rest of his life, but he’d much rather be back on the bed, holding him and touching him and promising him that everything will be okay.

            Apparently Noiz wants the same thing.

            “Come here,” he says feebly, holding his hand out. Koujaku’s heart skips a beat. Is he offering him his hand?

            He takes it away as Koujaku nears him, so he supposes not, but he does pull Koujaku back onto the bed and then pushes his head down as soon as he gives him a long kiss on the lips.

            “Weren’t you going to blow me or something?” he mutters. Koujaku grins as Noiz pulls his hair to control the pace of his mouth on his dick, and Koujaku tries to be as gentle as he can with his teeth as he finds out that Noiz’s post-almost-confession-of-love stamina is just as short as Koujaku’s early-morning one.

            “I still hate the way that tastes,” Koujaku whines as he settles back against the bedframe and Noiz laughs at him.

            “Yeah, because I love it or something,” he mutters. Koujaku rolls his eyes.

            “You said you did once,” he mutters and Noiz laughs again.

            “That was to make you think I was cool.”

            “Don’t do that,” Koujaku says. “That doesn’t make me think you’re cool, that makes me sad.”

            “Why?” Noiz asks, his mood shifting from post-blowjob pleasure to confusion. He rolls onto his side slightly and Koujaku shrugs.

            “I don’t know, you don’t have to like blowing me to make me want to spend time with you,” he says.

            “I did before.”

            Koujaku wants to correct him. He wants to remind him that he didn’t want to spend any time with him at all, because he genuinely despised him. Noiz never needed to have sex with him because Koujaku was perfectly fine with him disappearing from his life altogether. But he’s more focused on something else.

            “Before?” he asks. “Before what?”

            Noiz seems taken aback.

            “Before – whatever,” he shrugs.

            “No,” Koujaku insists. “Before what?”

            Noiz is annoyed. He opens his mouth and shakes his head and lets out a long breath. He shrugs several times before he says, “Before we stopped hating each other! I don’t know! Go make me breakfast.”

            Koujaku grins at him. He doesn’t say another word but he really enjoys standing at Noiz’s stove and navigating eggs in his pan as he waits for him in bed. This has always been one of his favorite parts of hooking up but it feels different this time. He’s still smiling to himself, laughing under his breath at every little fantasy he thinks up, like trying to feed Noiz a strawberry and Noiz smashing it against his face instead. Noiz eating so much breakfast in bed that he passes out for another few hours. Noiz playing coy and aloof and fluttering his eyelashes jokingly as he feeds something to Koujaku. Noiz resting his head under Koujaku’s arm, on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, and falling back to sleep, Koujaku not far behind him. Curling an arm around his back and turning into him, pulling him close and hugging him as he sleeps –

            “Fuck,” Koujaku says to himself, staring down at the spatula in his hand. He said he didn’t want to be dramatic, but he can’t help it. “I’m in love with him.”


	14. dance floor anthem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> everybody put up your hands, say i dont wanna be in love, i dont wanna be in love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can u believe this is it. the penultimate chapter. only one more to go.
> 
>  
> 
> [i tried to write this chapter to the sound and pace of this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OpNbTlehSHU)

            Koujaku has never exactly been as cool and collected in his head as he has been in person; the laid-back and romantic persona he’s perfected over the years fools a lot of people, but not those very close to him. That being said, even Mizuki hasn’t seen him this frazzled this often before. He supposes that realizing he’s in love would do that to him. He hasn’t been that sane since two mornings ago, when he was cooking eggs and rice in Noiz’s fancy fucking kitchen. Everything has been going a million miles an hour.

            Seeing couples in the street, hand in hand, he can only imagine Noiz. Seeing Aoba put his restless fingers on Ren’s knee in Black Needle, he can only imagine Noiz. Seeing Mizuki smack his new boyfriend’s ass behind the bar, he can only – retch and then imagine Noiz. Seeing a man arguing on his phone on the street, he can only imagine Noiz. Seeing a little girl holding her father’s hand, looking up at him as if he’s just revealed to her the secrets of the world, as if he’s the only person she trusts that implicitly, he can only imagine Noiz. Everything is Noiz, everything is _fucking Noiz_ and everything else is just noise.

            When Aoba turns to Ren and grabs his hand at the bar, when he tugs it down and says something that Koujaku can’t hear from twenty feet away, when he seems insistent but Ren simply laughs – Koujaku wants that. Ren says something and Aoba pulls him down by his cheeks and kisses his lips. Koujaku wants that. Koujaku wants Noiz to hound him at a restaurant to buy him food. Koujaku wants Noiz to grab his hand and squeeze until he gets his way. Koujaku wants every bratty part of Noiz that he hated before. He wants it _so_ bad.

            When he notices Aoba is in the corner of Black Needle, his ass grinding against Ren and Ren’s hand is on his waist, biting his bottom lip, trying not to give in – Koujaku isn’t jealous. Actually, he is, but only that Noiz isn’t here and even if he were, he wouldn’t be his boyfriend he wouldn’t be driving him crazy in a bar like that. That’s not true – he absolutely _would_ be driving him crazy, but something about not being able to call him his boyfriend is so upsetting now.

            When Ren leans down to touch his forehead to Aoba’s, and they sway like that in the same corner, Aoba smirking knowingly and Ren staring at him like he’s the only thing that exists right now – Koujaku knows that feeling. Koujaku wants to hold Noiz like that and convince him that nothing is more important than that moment. Koujaku wants Noiz to know he has Koujaku in the palm of his hand, he could get him to do anything he wants, and Koujaku would bend to every whim.

            “I want that so bad,” he says after he’s pulled Mizuki frantically to a sidewall of Black Needle. It’s late, the lights are dim, and the music is loud, so Mizuki can’t hear him that well.

            “What?” he shouts, leaning in. Koujaku grabs his shoulders and shakes him.

            “I want that so bad!” he yells in his ear. He’s desperate. He doesn’t know what to do anymore. Mizuki pulls away and rubs at his ear.

            “Want _what_?” he asks. Koujaku groans loudly.

            “That!” he shouts, pointing covertly at Aoba and Ren in the corner. Their hands are all over each other, roaming each other’s chests and Mizuki flinches.

            “They better not fuck in here,” he says. “I thought Aoba thought that was gross.”

            “Shut up and listen to me,” Koujaku growls. “I want that.”

            “What – Aoba?” Mizuki asks, almost cautiously and Koujaku is a little shocked. He shakes his head slightly but stares at Mizuki nervously nonetheless.

            “No, I – I want what Aoba has with Ren,” he corrects. “I want that so bad.”

            “You want – to be in love with someone?”

            “I want what you have with your new boyfriend,” he says, ignoring the question. “I want to hold hands.”

            “With – Aoba?”

            “No!” Koujaku shouts, annoyed. “I want that so bad… but I don’t want to be in love with anyone!”

            “I have no idea what you’re trying to say,” Mizuki shrugs. “How drunk are you?”

            Koujaku throws his head back and groans. It would be easiest if he just wasn’t in love, but he supposes that’s the story of his life.

            “This sucks!” he shouts. He turns and takes a few steps to leave, but Mizuki pulls him back by his shoulder.

            “Hold on,” he says. “Are you okay?”

            “No!” Koujaku shouts, stamping a foot like a child. “I’m in love and it sucks!”

            “Okay, Mr. Dramatic,” Mizuki nods, holding a hand up to stop him. He’s about to say more, but Koujaku is offended.

            “ _Dramatic?”_ he shouts. “When have I _ever_ told you that I’m in love?”

            Mizuki mulls it over for a second and then he shakes his head.

            “I mean – you have had a lot of girlfriends, you know?”

            Koujaku shoves him against the wall.

            “ _So?”_ he screams. “Have I ever been in _love with any of them?”_

“I – no, shit, you’re right,” Mizuki says, shrugging anxiously. “I’m just asking – you’re _in_ love? Or you just – feel strongly for someone?”

            Koujaku sighs and looks around the room. Okay, maybe he is being a little dramatic. But what he feels for Noiz is unlike anything he’s ever felt before. Sure, maybe it’s not _in_ love. But it’s not a confused pining like for Aoba, and it’s not a happy complacency like after his hook-ups. The majority of his girlfriends have broken up with him, and he’s never been down about it for more than a few weeks. He’s loved them all, but – he does love everybody.

            This is so much different.

            “Fine,” he relents, “it might not be love. But it’s different. It’s so much different than anything I’ve ever felt before and I don’t know what to do. It snuck up on me when I wasn’t expecting it and now I’m so fucking confused.”

            “Who is it?” Mizuki asks finally. “Have I met her?”

            Koujaku bites his bottom lip and tilts his head to look at his friend pityingly. He should tell him. He should tell him it’s Noiz. He should open up. He should at least tell him it’s not a woman.

            “No,” he sighs. “You haven’t met – them.”

            Mizuki catches that immediately. He turns his head to the side.

            “Them?”

            “Her.”

            “ _Them?”_

Koujaku scowls.

            “Don’t do this,” he warns. Mizuki glares at him.

            “What aren’t you telling me?”

            “Okay, fuck you, fine, it’s a guy!” he shouts, balling his hands into fists and throwing them up and down in a tiny tantrum.

            “Is it _Aoba_?” Mizuki asks, jutting his head toward him in shock. Koujaku slaps his hand over his eyes.

            “ _No!”_ he shouts languidly. “You’re useless, Mizuki!”

            “I’m trying to help, fuck, Koujaku!”

            “You’re not doing a very good job!”

            Mizuki grips his shoulders suddenly and pushes down on them, forcing him into place. He tightens his fingers into his skin and Koujaku almost winces, Mizuki is that strong. He stares him dead in the eye and tilts his head forward, shaking him slightly to get his attention.

            “Whatever you’re feeling right now,” he starts slowly but loudly, to beat out the sound of the music, “is completely fine. If you’re this worked up over it, then he means a lot to you and that’s okay. It doesn’t matter who it is. Try to calm down a little bit. Being in love is fun. Don’t let it make you anxious.”

            Koujaku takes a deep breath after Mizuki gives him the small pep talk and then he nods. Mizuki is totally right. Mizuki is his best friend. He loves Mizuki. He leans forward and kisses Mizuki right on his lips.

            “ _Fuck_!” Mizuki cries out and pushes him away by the chest. “Fuck, it’s not _me,_ is it?”

            “No,” Koujaku shakes his head, putting one finger up and wagging it at him. “It’s not you, but that was good advice and you needed a kiss.”

            “I have someone else to kiss, thank you,” he says. “Don’t ever put your lips on me again.”

            “You loved it,” Koujaku says and he turns to run away. He pulls out his Coil and it’s not until Noiz’s smarmy face pops up that he realizes what he just did and said to Mizuki was so much like Noiz that he must have channeled him for a few seconds. He shakes his head in disbelief and makes a note to message Mizuki an apology later, though he’s sure he’s not actually that mad.

            “What’s up, furry fucker?”

            “What the fuck does that even mean?” Koujaku asks, the silence of the alleyway almost deafening in stark contrast to the booming music he just left behind in Black Needle. A few people are walking by but it’s mostly quiet outside, though he can still feel the beat of the music inside.

            “Like, you fuck furries. You know what furries are, right?”

            “If you’re about to tell me that you’re a furry, then maybe we should just hang up,” Koujaku says, knowing it wouldn’t be a surprise if Noiz said he was. Noiz laughs.

            “You wanna come over?” he asks. “I found some really nice blindfolds. I want to use them on you.”

            “Yeah right,” Koujaku scoffs, but his feet are already carrying him to Noiz’s place. This is the first time he’ll be seeing him since that morning, when he accidentally dropped the entire tray of breakfast on Noiz’s bedroom floor before he could make it to the bed in the stupor of love that he found himself in. Noiz had teased him the rest of the day for it but he didn’t have any problem crawling to the floor and eating off of it. Koujaku is sort of terrified of what he might do, seeing Noiz again – mostly he’s terrified of what he might say. But he has to seem him. He wants to see him so bad that he’s willing to risk it.

            And a black blindfold against Noiz’s skin is incredible, not to mention the way Noiz arches his back when Koujaku scrapes the back of his teeth down his dick. He tries to be gentle, but he might go a bit overboard, not that Noiz would notice. He’s so in love with him that he can’t even be kinky anymore without having to take in all of him all the time; he wants to wrap his arms around him and surround him constantly. He wants to make Noiz come but he also wants to make Noiz happy and he wants Noiz to know that he’d like to be soft and romantic just as much as he’d like to fuck him.

            “I wish we had a gag, too,” he murmurs against Noiz’s already leaking cock. “I’d like to see how good that would look on you.”

            “Nn, _fuck_ ,” Noiz breathes, pulling against the black ropes that attach his wrists to his headboard.

            “Then again, I like hearing these sounds you make,” Koujaku continues, pressing his teeth against the tip of Noiz’s balls. “Do you want something inside of you?”

            “Yes,” Noiz nods. Koujaku shakes his head.

            “Say please.”

            “Yes, _please_ ,” Noiz says.

            “What do you want?” Koujaku says, lifting himself up and hovering over Noiz’s body, the tip of his dick right at Noiz’s lubed hole. “Do you want my dick in you?”

            “ _Yes, please_ ,” Noiz begs, jutting his chest out and pulling against the headboard again. Koujaku teases Noiz’s entrance for a few seconds, watching the boy trying to shove himself down onto it, and reveling in the sight. Koujaku loves him so much. And he looks so good. And Koujaku wants him to feel as good as he looks.

            “What about this, instead?” he asks, pushing himself back down and grabbing Noiz’s thighs, lifting his lower half up and slinging his legs over his shoulders. Noiz grunts in confusion at first, but when Koujaku’s tongue slips out of his mouth and inside of Noiz, he bucks up entire body upwards and takes in a deep breath that gets caught in his throat.

            “ _Koujaku!”_ he shouts, the entire bed shaking as he pulls against the ropes repeatedly. Koujaku makes sure to keep his fingernails softly digging into the piercings on his dick as he slides his tongue in and out of Noiz, first licking a light circle around his entrance, and then thrusting inside of him forcefully. He has a difficult time keeping Noiz still enough for him to really eat him out, especially since Noiz keeps pushing and pulling against the bed and Koujaku’s tongue and Koujaku is pleasantly surprised that he can feel this so well.

            He takes a few moments to resituate so that he can nip his teeth against the sensitive skin near Noiz’s hole. Noiz doesn’t seem to react much so he bites down harder and harder until he does. He starts writhing over his shoulders and making so much noise that Koujaku never wants to stop. He wants Noiz this desperate and wanting forever.

            “Is that good?” he asks, not because he isn’t positive that it is, but because he wants to hear Noiz try to speak through his moans.

            “It’s – _fuck,”_ he whines, and Koujaku feels him tighten as he tries to push up into his mouth more. He sticks his tongue back _hard_ and Noiz is almost sobbing after a few minutes of his circling tongue and suckling lips.

            “Koujaku,” he whispers.

            “Yeah?”

            “I want – your dick, too,” he says, so Koujaku lays him down gently and thrusts into him, fucking him as gently as possible into the mattress, finally asking if he can untie his hands. Noiz nods emphatically and Koujaku takes off his blindfold too; he wants to look at Noiz while he has sex with him. He wants to feel Noiz’s hands hugging his shoulders as he comes inside of him and as Noiz comes against their stomachs a few minutes later. He wants to look Noiz in the eye when he kisses his cheek, trying to save Noiz the unsanitary feeling of kissing his lips directly after eating him out, but Noiz is filthy. He grabs his cheeks and forces a kiss out of him, and Koujaku remembers how in love he is just then. He wonders if that’s Noiz’s way of saying he loves him, too.

            “I didn’t think you’d get that dirty,” Noiz tells him a few minutes later, after Koujaku has cleaned the semen off his stomach and the lube from his ass.

            “You think I’ve never eaten ass before?” Koujaku asks, and he has no idea why Noiz laughs for what feels like ten straight minutes.

            “You must have,” he tells him with tears in his eyes from laughter. Koujaku frowns at his amusement. “You were fucking great. I would have never guessed.”

            “Why?” Koujaku prods.

            “Because you’re so _vanilla_ ,” Noiz says, turning to him and poking his nose.

            “You think I’m vanilla?” Koujaku scowls. “I can be kinkier than that.”

            “Mm,” Noiz hums, turning to his other side and rubbing his stomach for no particular reason. Koujaku’s eyes dart down and watch. “Show me in a few minutes. I need a break.”

            But a break turns into a nap and a nap turns into the first time Koujaku wakes up with Noiz spooning into his arms – and the first time Noiz wakes up in Koujaku’s arms. It’s awkward at first: Koujaku tries to pull away without waking him, but when Noiz starts to stir, realizing he’s laying on Koujaku’s arm, he has to actively sit up to free him, and when he looks over at him, he looks worried.

            “What?” Koujaku says.

            “Nothing,” Noiz shrugs. “Are you spending the night?”

            “I guess so,” Koujaku nods. He’s made it this far without saying anything stupid, so he may as well not raise any suspicions now. But then Noiz quietly says, “Okay. But only if you wrap you arms around me like that again,” and Koujaku realizes he’s spoken too soon.

            He’s out the door in an instant, _so close_ to having given himself away. He couldn’t do it; he couldn’t hear Noiz so genuine and soft and asking to be held and _not_ tell him how much he loves him, _not_ tell him how glad he is he asked. He had to jump out of bed and tell him he was sick and run home and he knows Noiz isn’t going to believe that, but he didn’t give him any time to reply. Of course he hears his Coil going off as he sprints home, but when he gets there, he throws it on the floor and locks his bedroom door as he stuffs his head under his pillow and forces himself to go to sleep without checking them.

            They said something like, _“Sorry if that freaked you out,”_ and, “ _we don’t have to cuddle,”_ and, “ _we’re not holding hands,”_ but he doesn’t know that until the next morning, when it’s unbearably hard to fall back to sleep after just a few hours. He’s surprised Noiz hasn’t tried to show up at his place yet, but he supposes he’s grateful for that. He messages back, _“It didn’t freak me out. I just wasn’t ready.”_ and leaves it at that.

            He doesn’t hear back from Noiz all day and he isn’t sure he can stand sitting home alone anymore. He’s a different person when he has these breakdowns alone, so he calls up the only person he really can.

            It’s Ren’s idea to leave Koujaku and Aoba alone, not that Koujaku even considered asking. It is nice though, to be able to stand on Aoba’s veranda with a cigarette, which he hasn’t done in almost a year at this point. Aoba leans over the edge in his jacket and it occurs to him that the last time he saw Aoba like this was before Platinum Jail. He used to feel a bit jittery alone with Aoba, back when he wasn’t sure how he felt about him, but now everything is soft and calm and the air smells wet even though it hasn’t rained. The moon is out and bright enough that they can see everything below them and Koujaku is really relaxed by this. He needed this.

            He looks over at Aoba, who’s smiling, content with simply standing out here with his friend and looking at the alleyways below. Koujaku takes a long drag from his cigarette and blows it out as Aoba clears his throat and turns to him slightly.

            “Did you need anything?” he asks. “Or just wanted to hang out? You sounded a little messed up on the phone.”

            “Ah,” Koujaku shrugs. He looks down at some of the puddles on the ground and smiles. “I’m okay. I’ve – I’ve found myself in a situation that I wasn’t prepared for and I guess I needed someone to ground me.”

            “So you chose me?”

            “Of course I did. You always calm me.”

            Aoba laughs a bit.

            “Well, what’s the situation?”

            Koujaku smiles and looks down at his own feet. He sucks in a breath and rolls his lips in as he shakes his head. Then he lets out an awkward chuckle and decides he’s just going to say it:

            “I found myself having really serious feelings for someone,” he says, looking up from his feet to the building across the way. The brick is worn and wet. “In a way I never had before.”

            “Koujaku!” Aoba pulls at his elbow with a yelp of excitement. Koujaku rolls his eyes as Aoba brings him toward him and then hugs his arm. “I want to meet her. Let’s double date.”

            “Double date?” Koujaku asks in exaggerated surprised. “Isn’t that too cheesy for you?”

            “No,” Aoba pouts. “I like going on dates with Ren. Who is she? Have I met her?”

            Koujaku smiles to himself.

            “It’s not a woman,” he says. “It’s a man.”

            Aoba lets go immediately, almost throwing Koujaku’s arm away from his body and when Koujaku looks over in shock, Aoba is glaring back with confusion.

            “What?” Koujaku shouts and Aoba pulls his head back.

            “Don’t be mean,” he says. “I know you’re lying.”

            “Aoba, I’m not lying,” he insists, turning his body to him and offering a hand. “It’s another guy.”

            “I thought you liked girls?”

            “I do!” Koujaku shouts as Aoba tentatively places his hand back in Koujaku’s and Koujaku pulls him into a hug. He dances him back and forth between their feet. “I like guys, too. Is this weird for you?”

            “No,” Aoba mutters. “I mean – yes. I never knew you liked guys.”

            “I didn’t either, until him,” Koujaku shrugs, pushing Aoba’s head into his chest. Aoba pulls away with a grunt and Koujaku grins.

            “So you weren’t keeping this from me?” he asks. Koujaku shakes his head.

            “I was keeping it from myself, really,” he tells him, letting go of his back, but Aoba hardly moves. He looks over the veranda, still pouting, obviously considering something. Koujaku wonders if he’s upset and doesn’t believe him. Maybe he thinks Koujaku never told him because he was using it as an excuse to be close to him, and suddenly his hands start to feel sweaty. “Aoba – I never – I never meant to keep it from you in a bad way…”

            Aoba turns to him sharply.

            “What do you mean?”

            “I mean – I never meant to make you think I was only interested in girls so that you would be – you know. Sort of intimate with me. We’ve been friends for so long, I never – ”

            “I don’t think that, dumbass,” Aoba says, shoving an elbow into his side. Koujaku yelps in pain but laughs at the same time, holding the spot that Aoba jabbed. “I just had no idea.”

            “I didn’t either,” Koujaku says. “Honestly.”

            “Hm,” Aoba says, reeling his head back to study Koujaku’s face and raising his eyebrows. “So who is it? Do I know this person?”

            Koujaku takes a deep breath and looks away. He can’t keep the smile off his face, but he can’t admit it to it just yet. If Noiz doesn’t want to hold hands, he doesn’t want to embarrass himself. He doesn’t expect anything from him, so he shouldn’t build up his hopes.

            “No,” he tells him. “You don’t know him. And he doesn’t want me, I don’t think. So it’s not a big deal. It’s just… not anything I’ve ever felt before.”

            Aoba nods solemnly and looks across the way. They both sit in silence for a few minutes, and Aoba brings a hand over, signaling for the cigarette. He takes a long inhale and hands it back, and Koujaku does the same. He watches their smoke entwine in the air and then he takes a deep breath.

            “Aoba, I… in the interest of… honesty…”

            Aoba turns to him.

            “Yeah?”

            “I want to tell you something else. This is going to come as a shock, too and I swear what I said before was the truth. I never, _ever_ meant to lie to you on purpose. But…”

            “Yeah?” Aoba urges. Koujaku nods. He wants him to know this. It’ll make things so much easier on him. And after all, Aoba told him he could tell him anything.

            “I’m so glad you have Ren,” he starts. “I know what happened is a little unconventional, but… he loves you so much, I know. And I can tell you love him, too. And I love you both, so I couldn’t be anything but happy that you have each other.”

            Aoba smiles softly and there might be a hint of tears at the corner of his eyes, but Koujaku chalks that up to the light glinting awkwardly.

            “Thanks,” he tells him. “I do love him. A lot.”

            “And I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Koujaku assures him. “But I just wanted you to know… that if…”

            He takes a long breath.

            “If you hadn’t found Ren, or however you want to word it… there was a time that I wouldn’t have minded taking his spot.”

            Aoba’s face goes from soft and content to severe and shocked and Koujaku wonders if this was a bad idea. He had to get it out though, he couldn’t let it hang in the air between them – he couldn’t let it hang in the air between he and Noiz, either. He wants to be able to tell Noiz how he feels, and he wants to be able to assure him that he put his trust in the right person. He wants to be able to tell Noiz exactly how he feels for Aoba, that it’s not a love he wants to pursue, and in order to tell Noiz that, he has to tell Aoba, too.

            “I—uh,” Aoba stutters. Koujaku laughs a little at the awkwardness, which makes Aoba chuckle a few times too. “I – had no idea you ever felt that way.”

            “I just wanted to protect you,” Koujaku says. “I loved you so much, so deeply, because you were all I had to live for. And I still love you – I’ll always love you, no matter what. But I can… love you the way I do without wanting to be with you romantically and I see that now. Which is perfect, really.”

            “Why?”

            “Because now we can always be friends,” he says, offering the cigarette back to Aoba. Aoba stares at it for a few seconds but then he takes it and takes another long drag. Koujaku watches him from the side of his eye and grins. Aoba exhales and nods a few times.

            “I love you, Koujaku,” he says, and when Koujaku takes the cigarette back from him, Aoba grips his hand tightly and squeezes. Koujaku stares at him for a few seconds before he grips it back and holds it in his own. “I’ll always love you, Koujaku.”

            Koujaku wants to answer, but all he can do is smile. This is all he’s wanted. This is it. All those confusing feelings, sitting on Aoba’s bed, seeing the skin peek out between his shirt and his jeans, watching him rut against Ren at bars, feeling his warmth when he wraps him up in a hug – it’s love. He’ll always love Aoba. And maybe there’s still something there to get over. But Aoba isn’t an ache in his chest anymore. Aoba isn’t a room in his head that he has to lock up. Aoba isn’t a confusing ball of nerves. He loved Aoba because he was a reason to live, but he’ll always be a reason to live. So is Ren. And so is Mizuki. And now, so is Noiz.

            “Anyway,” Aoba says, his voice higher and indicative of a shift in mood, “I think you should tell this guy how you feel.”

            “Yeah?” Koujaku asks with a smile.

            “Yeah,” he nods. “Because if he doesn’t feel the same way than he’s an idiotic little fool.”

            Koujaku laughs heartily.

            “He is, actually,” he tells him. “He is an idiotic little fool.”

            “Why do you like him so much?”

            “I don’t know,” Koujaku sighs. “Sometimes I’m an idiotic little fool too, I guess.”

            “That’s true,” Aoba responds with a serious nod. “You relate. I get that.”

            “Yeah,” Koujaku rolls his eyes. “I do. I do relate… but I think I’m going to let it simmer a little longer. We’re not, like… holding hands yet or anything,” he mutters.

            “Holding hands?”

            “That’s just what he says,” Koujaku shakes his head. “He says he doesn’t have feelings for me. But he also doesn’t hate me.”

            “Why would he hate you?” Aoba asks. Koujaku’s voice gets stuck in his throat.

            “Er – I mean, it’s just an expression. He doesn’t love me, but it’s not like he _hates_ me,” he says. Aoba nods.

            “Oh. I get it.”

            Koujaku wants to stop talking about it now. It was nice to get to tell Aoba about it, but he’s worried he might slip up if he keeps talking.

            “Anyway,” he says, flicking his cigarette to the floor and stamping it out before shoving it off with his foot. “Thanks for talking to me. I know it can be frustrating, when I have a hard time opening up.”

            “I won’t lie,” Aoba says. “I hate thinking that you’re keeping something from me because you think I’d ever stop caring about you. But if you really need to wait until you’re ready… then I’ll wait. Don’t ever think you can’t talk to me about anything you need to, though.”

            “Thanks,” Koujaku says, shoving a shoulder into his in affection. He’s going to ask Aoba if he wants to go back inside when he hears a shrill, faraway cry, and he and Aoba share a look of confusion before Aoba’s face pales.

            “Oh no.”

            “What?”

            “Get inside,” he says, opening his door quickly and ushering Koujaku in.

            “What the hell is going on?”

            “It’s fine, it’s just – ”

            Koujaku hears a crack as something connects with something; he’s not sure what right away. Then he figures out it’s someone’s feet with his own back, and then his chin with Aoba’s head. The three of them end up in an awkward pile on the grating between the veranda and Aoba’s bedroom, he and Aoba grunting as Clear removes himself from the top of the pile and waves his hands around frantically.

            “I’m sorry, Master! Koujaku-san!” Koujaku turns to him in disbelief.

            “What the hell are you doing here?” he shouts. He’s not particularly angry, but his back hurts now and he has to roll off Aoba unceremoniously to let him up and groans in discomfort during the process.

            “Ah,” Clear whines, dancing awkwardly from foot to foot on the veranda. “You were having a party and didn’t invite me!”

            “A party?” Koujaku almost bellows. “It was just me and Aoba! We were having a very important chat!”

            “Don’t lie, Koujaku-san!” Clear cries. “Mizuki-san and Noiz-san are here, too!”

            “No they’re not!” Aoba shouts but at just that moment, Ren opens the bedroom door with Mizuki and Noiz in tow.

            “Noiz and Mizuki are here,” he says flatly. He seems just as confused as everyone else as Mizuki barges in. Aoba is still untangling his limbs from Koujaku’s when Koujaku flips his head upside down from the floor and first makes eye contact with Noiz, whose expression is completely blank. 

            “This kid insisted he come over to Aoba’s right away when Koujaku wasn’t at Black Needle,” Mizuki says in irritation as Koujaku finally rights himself. He sits up, his back against Aoba’s door, and Clear finally comes inside so Aoba can close it. He stares at Noiz with his mouth open fearfully, as Noiz stays rooted on the other side of the threshold. Koujaku can hear the shouting and confusion all around him; Aoba demanding to know why everyone and their brother is in his bedroom right now, Clear asking everyone to settle down, Ren trying to make sense of things, Mizuki yelling that he’s really fed up with all the dumbasses he knows cockblocking him on a daily basis. Koujaku knows it’s happening but he can’t really listen to it, because he’s too busy staring at Noiz. He wishes he could stand up but he feels frozen to his spot. He wishes Noiz would come to him, but he knows he won’t. He has to find his way to Noiz this time, because Noiz isn’t budging.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> here it comes again, like the first time again... how can this be, how did this feeling creep on up on me

            Aoba’s bed has always been comforting to Koujaku because he’s only ever sat on it with someone that he loves. He never expected that person to be Noiz.

            It’s so quiet. There’s muffled arguing downstairs and it’s surely only a matter of time before someone realizes they’re both missing and comes to find them, but it sounds like Tae-san is now a part of the thrilling debate, so that might take a while. Mizuki had pushed past Noiz to leave and Aoba followed him, which in turn brought Clear and Ren behind him as well, until Noiz and Koujaku were the only two left, still what felt like a million feet apart on opposite sides of the room. No one noticed they hadn’t followed.

            Koujaku had stood up after several seconds and tried to say something but nothing came out. He simply walked slowly to Aoba’s bed and sat down because that’s the most comforting place he knew at the moment. Noiz followed quickly and that’s how they ended up sitting here side by side, arms folded and staring away from each other like petulant children. Koujaku doesn’t know what to say. He can’t even tell if Noiz is angry or just – refusing to speak first. How did it get to this point?

            Koujaku takes a long breath and actually thinks about that.

            It’s fuzzy now, the memory of opening Aoba’s door almost two years ago to find him being threatened by Noiz. He doesn’t entirely remember the events of that evening, if only because the ones directly following it were so harrowing. He knows he hated Noiz right away as all Koujaku could see was Aoba in danger, but his attitude afterwards certainly didn’t help, either. Koujaku wonders now if Noiz did or said anything then that should have tipped him off. Maybe he had always been making implications about his past, and Koujaku just didn’t want to hear it. He wishes he could go back. He wishes he could remember exactly what happened, knowing what he knows now, but who wouldn’t?

            Maybe the best he could have done is exactly what he did. He realizes it took him a lot longer than some people to understand that Noiz just needed someone to care, sure. He realizes that he might be a bitself-centered, a bit high-maintenance – a _bit –_ but it’s not like Noiz makes it any easier. And it’s not like he’s the only one who’s ever been annoyed or angry with Noiz. Aoba certainly gets irritated with his constant barrage of sexual questions – well, he certainly _got_ irritated. That was before Noiz stopped doing that. That was before Noiz actually matured a bit. Koujaku supposes he hasn’t given him enough credit for that, yet. He really should.

            Koujaku sighs and lets his hands flop out of his lap and to his sides. It’s not like he _wanted_ to hate Noiz, either. He tried to simply ignore him for so long, but Noiz wouldn’t allow it. Koujaku was always happy to chalk it up to conflicting personalities. He wasn’t the one who’d show up where he knew Noiz hung around. He wasn’t the one who’d chide him and flirt with him. He wasn’t the one who wanted to annoy him enough to start a physical altercation. He just wanted to be left alone and he in turn was happy to leave Noiz alone. It was Noiz who wanted the attention.

            It was Noiz who wanted to connect, Koujaku realizes suddenly. Or – maybe that’s a bit of a leap? Maybe Noiz simply wanted to antagonize. Once he revealed his condition, he never denied that he targeted Koujaku because he could be riled up enough to bear his fangs, so to speak. He only wanted Koujaku because he was quick to anger. He only wanted Koujaku because he provided him with something, and that was all Noiz knew. Noiz only understood the world as full of _transactions_ and Koujaku was simply one of many that he made once he got to this island.

            But it was also Noiz who admitted that he didn’t know how to connect. Couldn’t it be said that he was doing his best and just – failing miserably? Koujaku frowns at the thought. He hates knowing that Noiz probably got taken advantage of while trying to relate to other people. He hates knowing that he sort of took advantage of him, too. Even if he didn’t mean to. Even if he’s doing all he can now to rectify that, it still kills him.

            It’s not his fault, though. And he supposes the same could be said for Noiz. Noiz was taking advantage of him, too. He was taking advantage of his anger without a second thought for his well-being. He was taking advantage of something that hurt Koujaku and he never stopped to consider that. So maybe they’re both to blame. Or maybe – neither?

            Koujaku sighs and wishes Noiz would say something.

            When did things turn around? He can’t remember. He doesn’t know when he started feeling differently for him. He doesn’t know what sparked that fight, when Noiz admitted to his disease. He hardly knows what sparked his own confession. He remembers the little things that started happening – he remembers that they started to laugh at each other, genuinely, with amusement, and not degradation. They shared jokes, even if they came about during sex so rough that Koujaku thought he might actually throw out a hip. And not because he was _old_. They had things that were uniquely _them_ and Koujaku never expected that.

            He remembers that. He remembers when Noiz held his hair back for him in the Black Needle bathroom stall. He remembers how warm he felt when he crouched behind him and helped him up afterwards. He doesn’t remember anything after that, but that’s because he blacked out. He’s sure if Noiz did something kind then, he would still remember it to this day.

            He just has no idea how that started happening. Maybe it was fate. Maybe they knew they were connected but had to figure out how. Koujaku certainly doesn’t deny now how similar they are or how much he thinks he could help Noiz. He also doesn’t deny that Noiz has already helped him.

            And maybe it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t know how it happened. Maybe all that matters is that it’s happened. Rather, that it’s happening.

            When did it become more than sex? He knows now that Noiz only viewed sex as potential payment and he almost retches at the thought. Koujaku loves sex. Koujaku has always loved sex. He wants to say this is a cliché, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. He could count on two hands the amount of women that would call him back after they had sex. Most of them were gone by the time he woke up. He never convinced a woman to have sex with him; they always wanted to of their own accord. There was no technique to picking them up. No one ever complained that he led them on. He wasn’t interested in tricking people into sleeping with him. He supposes now it _was_ a sort of transaction: they were both getting sexual satisfaction from the deal with the understanding that that was all it was. It was just sex.

            How did Noiz become more than sex?

            It’s a bit unromantic, which Koujaku loathes, to treat all these women before Noiz as if they meant nothing to him. And it’s also untrue: he knew these women. They were interesting people. They were attractive and they wanted the same things he did, yes. But it’s not as if he never _spoke_ to them. He saw most of the women he slept with afterwards, at bars, or in the streets – he spoke to them. He still knows their ambitions. He still knows their names. He would call a lot of them his friends. He still cares and wonders and hopes that they’re doing well. But most of them didn’t want to date him. And even though he did get into a few relationships, he was too preoccupied with Aoba to want to date most of them seriously, either. Maybe that was terrible of him, to date someone else when he knew he was in love with Aoba, but he didn’t know what else to do. If he could take it back, he would. But there’s a lot he would take back.

            And now, he wants to date Noiz. And he supposes that’s all there is to it. Maybe he isn’t supposed to find a great epiphany. Maybe it isn’t logical or even romantic. He doesn’t want to date someone he hates. He doesn’t want drama for the sake of drama. But just because Noiz wasn’t conventional – just because coming to love Noiz wasn’t how he’d imagined falling in love for the first time would be, doesn’t mean it’s any less real or meaningful.

            He grips the thin blanket on Aoba’s bed as he remembers where he really is. Aoba’s bedroom. Aoba’s bed. He thought he’d never get over him. How did he? It was sort of simple, once he realized he could still love Aoba and not want to date him. Once he realized Aoba loved Ren and what he really wanted was for Aoba to be happy. He’s still not sure how that shifted to Noiz –

            And then he realizes it didn’t shift to Noiz. Noiz didn’t pop up as a rebound. Noiz was someone who he grew to love organically, completely independently of Aoba. The two have nothing to do with each other. He loves Aoba in a way that he can never love Noiz: Noiz wasn’t the one who he protected as a child. He wasn’t the one that Koujaku witnessed getting bullied and he wasn’t the one who clung to him for help. He wasn’t the one he struggled to keep on living for and he wasn’t the one by his side for the past few years.

            But that’s okay. Because Aoba wasn’t the one who showed a vulnerability with Koujaku that he never showed anyone else. Aoba wasn’t the one who realized he had to make Koujaku feel safe. He wasn’t the one who rubbed his back when he cried about his mother. He wasn’t the one who stopped making empty jokes about her when he found out just what happened to her. Aoba wasn’t the one who Koujaku actually fell in love with. That was Noiz.

            Noiz coughs and shifts his weight on the bed. Koujaku snaps his head to him.

            “You okay?”

            Noiz doesn’t respond. He nods softly and stares at the bedroom door. He has his left leg up, bent at the knee, his left arm draped over it as his right leg bends at the knee as well, lifted onto the bed. Koujaku recognizes this. He sits like this a lot. He sat like this at Heibon, after he was caught eavesdropping with his Allmates. Koujaku looks away again.

            He fell in love with Noiz. One day, he might be able to more clearly see the moment it happened, but right now it’s too cloudy. He keeps telling himself that that’s okay, that it’s going to be okay, that he doesn’t need to explain this to himself, but nothing is really helping. He slowly turns his head to Noiz and that’s when he feels it.

            Noiz’s fingers are creeping toward his hand.

            At first he thinks nothing of it, but it’s when he’s about to instinctually reach over and grab it that he realizes. Noiz is trying to hold his hand.

            “Noiz,” he says suddenly, without meaning to. His voice is so loud and awkward and booms through the room so abruptly that Noiz pulls his hand back in surprise and stares at him.

            “Fuck, Koujaku,” he breathes. “You scared me.”

            “I know, sorry,” Koujaku shakes his head. “I didn’t mean to shout.”

            “Why did you say my name?”

            Koujaku watches him for a moment. He’s not sure. He’s not sure why he said his name. He just shouted, like a sea lion or something. He was so surprised he honked out a random word, and it was Noiz’s name and he wants to hold his hand so bad.

            “I’m sorry I left so suddenly,” he says finally. The last time he saw Noiz, he asked to cuddle and Koujaku had run out because he was too scared of admitting that he was in love. But Noiz obviously didn’t realize that. He must think that he went too far and Koujaku didn’t like that. It’s unfortunately the opposite.

            “It’s okay,” Noiz tells him, sliding his legs down and sitting against the wall.

            “No, I – I didn’t leave because you freaked me out or anything.”

            “Hm.”

            “You really didn’t.”

            Noiz doesn’t respond. Koujaku doesn’t know what else to say. He wonders what it’s like to lace his fingers through the spaces between Noiz’s.

            He wonders if it should be this hard. Aoba was a dull ache in his chest for so long and it was so difficult. He wonders if falling in love should be easier than that. Noiz is not exactly much better than Aoba. Every time he thinks about Noiz as a child, his chest aches. Every time he thinks about Noiz dating someone else… his chest aches. He doesn’t want that anymore. He doesn’t want that annoying pulse in his skin. He doesn’t want his heart to have a hard time beating just because he loves someone. Maybe this was a bad idea.

            This is exactly like when he first realized he loved Aoba. Confusing. Frustrating. Too hard. But impossible to stop. It’s slow and painful and it kills him. He almost feels _bad_ , like it isn’t his place to keep feeling this strongly for people who obviously don’t care for him back. But he can’t stop it no matter how badly he wants to – and he really, _really_ wants to.

            He puts his face in his hands. But he _doesn’t want to, he wants to be in love with Noiz and he wants to hold him and he wants to be with him and feel him everywhere and this is breaking him slowly and he has to say something –_

            “I didn’t mean it like, you had to cuddle with me,” Noiz says suddenly. Koujaku whips his head up to look at him. Noiz takes a deep breath. “I just had gotten comfortable in that position. And I didn’t want to move.”

            Koujaku is a little shocked – and it hardly sounds sincere. Still, not believing him would be terrible, so he does. Noiz didn’t want to cuddle, which is too bad, because Koujaku didn’t. Noiz didn’t want to be held, and why would he? It’s not like he could feel it anyway. He doesn’t want to hold Koujaku’s hand. This was a mistake. He should go home. He should stop calling Noiz and he should break this off right now. He can’t do this without feelings anymore, and Noiz doesn’t have feelings in return. That’s fine.

            He just has to be positive.

            “Are you sure?”

            Noiz turns to him. He’s confused.

            “Am I sure what?”

            “Are you sure you didn’t want to cuddle?”

            “Why?” Noiz laughs. “Did you?”

            “Yes.”

            Noiz’s smile disappears. Well, _he_ asked. Koujaku just told the truth. This is a bit of a trend. Noiz tries to save face, Koujaku promises him he doesn’t need to, and Noiz is shocked. Koujaku would like there to be a day that Noiz isn’t shocked. Koujaku would like there to be a day that Noiz doesn’t think it out of the ordinary that someone loves him.

            “You wanted to cuddle with me?” he asks.

            “Yes, I did,” Koujaku confirms.

            “Why?”

            Koujaku takes a deep breath and then he shrugs. He doesn’t really have a concrete answer for that.

            “I don’t know,” he says. “I just wanted to hold you.”

            “Gross.”

            “Yeah,” Koujaku smiles. “I know you are. But I wanted to hold you anyway.”

            Noiz turns toward him and shifts up onto his knees. He falls forward onto his hands and Koujaku turns his entire body to open it to him.

            “Tell me why you wanted to cuddle me.”

            Koujaku looks at the ceiling and sighs. He has the time to come up with something other than, _“Because I love you,”_ but now he’s not sure he really wants to. Still, he doesn’t have to say it in those words.

            “Hm,” he ponders. “I wanted to cuddle because… I wanted to know what it felt like to keep you safe.”

            “Why would you want to keep me safe?”

            “Because you deserve it.”

            Noiz is still for a moment and then his shoulders start to jerk, as if he’s trying to stifle his breaths. Koujaku doesn’t mention it.

            “Why do you think I deserve that?” he asks quietly. Koujaku blinks.

            “Because you’re a good person.”

            “Why?”

            “Because you were an asshole to me,” Koujaku says. “And then you found out that it hurt me. And you stopped.”

            “A good person would have been nice to you in the first place,” he scoffs. Koujaku shakes his head.

            “Even a good person can get confused when no one’s been good to them their whole lives.”

            Noiz makes an involuntary sound from the back of his throat. He’s trying not to cry. Koujaku looks away.

            “It’s okay to cry if you need to,” he says softly, but Noiz refuses to cry.

            “So why did you decide to start being nice to me? Why’d you take that chance? What if I had just kept being an asshole?”

            “Because you took a chance on me,” Koujaku looks back at him.

            “How?”

            “You told me about your parents. And your condition. You took the chance to be vulnerable. And I didn’t want to take advantage of that.”

            Noiz heaves his shoulders up and down and then relaxes against the wall beside Koujaku. His hand inches forward but Koujaku keeps his own against his leg. He won’t force Noiz into this. Noiz will have to take his hand first.

            “And then you took the chance to tell me about _your_ past,” Noiz says, but Koujaku shakes his head.

            “No,” he tells him. “I didn’t take the chance. I just – did that. Because it felt right. I felt safer telling you that stuff than I ever have anyone else.”

            “But why?”

            “You know I have no idea,” Koujaku shrugs. “We’ve talked about this before. Maybe it was because you were already open with me and I just – I don’t know. I can’t answer it. I just felt safe.”

            He supposes that’s a part of love, too: not really being able to apply any logic to how it makes him feel. He sighs and then lets a smile spread on his lips as he realizes the full weight of feeling safe with Noiz. He feels safe enough to tell him about his mother, about Ryuuhou, about the tattoo.

            And being in love with Noiz is confusing, but it’s nothing compared to those things. Being in love with Noiz is in _spite_ of those things – being in love with Noiz is because Noiz cares about him knowing full _well_ about those things. Koujaku is in love with Noiz because Noiz doesn’t think he’s a monster. Koujaku is in love with Noiz because Noiz understands. Koujaku is in love with Noiz because he’s never felt freer than when he’s with him. His chest has never felt lighter. His chest has ached, yes, but it’s felt relieved, too. Noiz makes him a better person. He has to tell him that.

            “Hey, Noiz –” Koujaku starts, but Noiz interrupts him.

            “Do you think you’ll ever tell them?”

            Koujaku sighs. Will he ever tell Aoba and Mizuki about his past? Of course. And he still feels bad that it’s so hard. But Noiz has never shamed him for it.

“Yeah,” he nods. “I think… I built them up as people I had to protect. So I couldn’t tell them. I was deeply ashamed, of course, that’s part of it. It’s hard to tell _anyone_. But I especially couldn’t tell them. If they ended up hating me… I wouldn’t have been able to deal.”

            “When really they were the ones you should have told first,” Noiz offers. Koujaku smiles.

            “I should have told who first? My friends?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Well… I did, didn’t I?”

            Noiz lifts his head up to stare at the ceiling.

            “I’m your friend?”

            Koujaku stares at him until he brings his head back down and looks into his eyes. Koujaku wants him to know how serious he is when he says this.

            “Do you want to be something other than that?”

            Noiz doesn’t flinch.

            “Wasn’t I your enemy at first?”

            “Something other than that, too,” Koujaku rolls his eyes.

            “Not your friend and not your enemy. I assume you don’t mean going back to being strangers. So what would that be, Koujaku?”

            “Do you need to define it?” Koujaku asks. It was hard, but now he’s ready. He’s ready to define it.

            “…I’d like to,” Noiz almost whispers. Koujaku turns his entire body to him.

            “Be my boyfriend,” he says quickly. He’s ready to convince him, he’s ready for a barrage of, _“Be my boyfriend. Be with me. Let me love you and love me back. Let me see you wake up every morning and let me help you when you need it. Let me listen to you. Let me listen to you about things you’ve said a million times before. Let me be the one who holds you when you need to be held. Let me kiss your forehead when I get home from work and be my routine, my only routine, the only routine I’ll ever need again_ ,” but he can’t get to that because Noiz just as quickly responds:

            “Okay.”

            Koujaku blinks at him. Wait.

            “You want to be my boyfriend?”

            “I said okay,” Noiz shrugs at him as if he’s the stupidest man on the planet.

            “I had a whole – thing I was gonna say,” Koujaku admits.

            “A whole thing?”

            “Like a – it was going to be romantic.”

            “Oh, sorry,” Noiz shifts backwards. “Go ahead.”

            “Never mind,” Koujaku says, taking the opportunity to pounce. He pins Noiz against the pillow and rests his body on top of his, his hands gripping either of his cheeks tightly as he kisses him once, deeply. “There’s going to be plenty of time to tell you all that.”

            He swears that Noiz is blushing.

            “I want to hear it now,” he grumbles.

            Koujaku grins. He shifts his weight onto his right arm and runs his left hands through Noiz’s hair.

            “It’s been Hell, not telling you,” he starts. “It’s been Hell denying it.”

            “Denying what?”

            Koujaku’s hand droops to the bed as he stares at him flatly.

            “You have to let me – you have to let me talk,” he says. “I have a whole – thing. You’re throwing me off.”

            “Sorry, right, okay,” Noiz shakes his head. “Go.”

            Koujaku doesn’t really have this planned, not like a script, at least. But it certainly isn’t hard to say it all; it’s mostly things he’s been holding in anyway.

            “I didn’t know I loved you,” he starts again, carding his fingers through Noiz’s hair again. “I couldn’t let myself care about you – because you didn’t want me to. You didn’t love me back, and then that was Hell, too. I went nuts. I kissed Mizuki.”

            “You what?”

            “No, not like – Mizuki told me it was okay to be in love and it felt so – it was so much pressure taken off me. I was so relieved to have permission to love you.”

            “Your friends are weird,” Noiz mutters.

            “He wasn’t ecstatic about the kiss,” Koujaku says out the side of his mouth as an aside. “Anyway, the point is, I was doing crazy things because I care about you so much.”

            “Why do you care about me?”

            “You’re not going to let me do my own thing, are you?” Koujaku asks.

            “Sorry,” Noiz says again. “I don’t really care about your story, though. I just want to hear the things about me.”

            Koujaku smiles and rubs his thumb over the corner of Noiz’s lips.

            “ _You_ are so much better than you know,” he says. Noiz’s face falls immediately. “You were trained to believe that you were a monster. And that you were better off locked away. I know it’s hard to stop thinking of yourself that way when it’s all you’ve ever known. But I hope one day you will. Stop thinking that about yourself, I mean. I hope one day you’ll know that you deserve the love I want to give you – ”

            “ _Stop_ ,” Noiz says, his voice breaking and a few tears finally streaming out of his eyes. He reaches up and Koujaku has his kimono half-off in just a few seconds. They move quickly, Noiz’s hands roaming all over his chest and Koujaku’s matching his, the room filled only with the sound of Aoba’s slick bed sheets being rubbed by skin and their breathlessness as they can’t stop kissing. Noiz sniffles a few times, and Koujaku’s chest aches so good, it aches in a way it never has before, in a way that feels like he knows it’s bad, he knows it’s terrible that Noiz is crying, that hearing good things about himself should make him cry, but he’s here now, and he can protect him, he can make sure Noiz never cries again. He can make sure if Noiz cries, it’s because he’s _too_ loved. He can do that, now.

            He sits back to take off his kimono and Noiz is too desperate for that.

            “No, no, kiss me.”

            “I’m taking this off – ”

            “Don’t care, kiss me while you do it.”

            “Give me a second, you brat – ”

            Then the door opens.

            Both their heads whips quickly to the doorway to see Mizuki, wide-eyed and open-mouthed standing there. Koujaku’s mouth drops open and he doesn’t know what to say. His kimono is hanging open around his stomach, completely off his shoulders. He’s straddling Noiz’s waist. Noiz’s tie is crooked.

            He can’t lie about this one.

            Mizuki closes his mouth and then opens it again like a fish. He points at Koujaku, who feels as if a gun’s just been shoved into his face. His heart rate picks up but he still doesn’t know what to say. Then Mizuki points at Noiz, who seems a lot less worried about the situation. Mizuki looks at Koujaku again and stutters:

            “I – I – ”

            “Mizuki – ”

            Mizuki holds up a hand, a grave stare in his eyes, daring Koujaku to keep talking. Then he points a finger at Noiz again, who actually flinches a bit. He slams the door shut with his foot but otherwise is rooted in place. So is Koujaku. His heart is racing. This wasn’t exactly how he meant for his first moments as Noiz’s boyfriend to go.

            “Fucking – ”

            Koujaku opens his mouth to cut him off again but Mizuki waves his hands wildly and Koujaku keeps them closed. A few mores seconds pass in dead, awkward silence, until Mizuki closes and opens his eyes slowly.

 _“Knew it!”_ he bellows.

            Koujaku is a little taken aback. He was expecting Mizuki to get angry – not because Mizuki would find this situation angering, but because he wants to get home to his own boyfriend, yet here he is watching Koujaku and Noiz making out, half-naked.

            Usually that sort of thing made Mizuki mad.

            But he’s not mad, he’s more _gleeful_ than anything, but there’s a hint of cockiness in his voice, too.

            “I knew you two were fucking!” he shouts, a grin spreading across his face. “I fucking knew it!”

            “We’re not fucking!” Koujaku yells back.

            “Yes we are,” Noiz interrupts.

            “Noiz!” Koujaku shouts. “Everyone keep your voice down!”

            He stands up immediately and pulls his kimono back up as Mizuki shoves his back against the bedroom door, blocking his exit with a pretentious smile.

            “You wouldn’t tell me,” he chides, “but I knew it anyway. There’s no way you suddenly just were okay with him. You _never_ get over your grudges.”

            “I don’t have grudges!” Koujaku yells at him. “Will you get out of my way, don’t you want to go home and blow your boyfriend, or something?”

            “More like you want me to leave so you can blow _him_ ,” Mizuki mutters.

            “I’m not blowing him!” Koujaku is so angry. “He’s my boyfriend!”

            Mizuki’s eyes widen, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. He looks over at Noiz, his mouth agape.

            “Really?”

            Noiz nods with a cocky smirk. Koujaku shakes his head.

            “Get out of the way!”

            “You were gonna fuck in Aoba’s bed?” Mizuki asks suddenly. “You’re fuckin’ nasty – hey, don’t you _ever_ fuck at Black Needle, I’m so serious, Koujaku –”

            “ _We weren’t going to fuck in Aoba’s bed_ ,” Koujaku seethes.

            “I heard you two kissed, though,” Noiz says, pointing between Koujaku and Mizuki as he finally gets off the bed and fixes his clothes. “I could get into that.”

            “Yeah?” Mizuki laughs. “I’ll run it by my boyfriend.”

            “Cool,” Noiz nods. Koujaku has never been this frustrated in his entire life.

            “We’re not doing that!” he shouts. “This is the most backwards thing – stop blocking the door! I fucking – you two are fucking unbearable!”

            “Hey,” comes Noiz’s voice from Koujaku’s side. He turns to him in time to see him grip his elbow and lean up to kiss him. Koujaku closes his eyes in surprise as Noiz’s lips land softly against his, and gently press against them. It’s not rough; it’s not quick or wanting or following a blowjob. It’s comforting. Noiz is comforting him. Noiz is helping him feel safe.

            “Wh – what?”

            “Calm down,” Noiz tells him. “We’re just fucking with you. You don’t need to get mad.”

            Koujaku takes a deep breath and lets it out all at once. He stares at the floor to compose himself and then smiles when he looks back up at Noiz from under his bangs.

            “Okay,” he nods.

            Mizuki retches.

            “You two are disgusting,” he says before he turns to the door and opens it. “I won’t tell.”

            Koujaku is a little relieved. He doesn’t want to keep Noiz a secret, but he certainly doesn’t want someone else to be the one to tell – not that he ever thought Mizuki would do that to him. He moves to leave the room and takes a few steps out the door and then turns to Noiz.

            “Come on,” he says. “How are we going to tell everyone?”

            “No idea,” Noiz says, following behind. “Maybe we should just start fucking in front of everyone. I bet they’d catch on eventually.”

            “Noiz,” Koujaku sighs. “I’m serious. I don’t want them all to find out like Mizuki just did.”

            “We’ll figure it out,” Noiz says tells him as they get to the top of the stairs. Koujaku starts to step down to join everyone downstairs but he feels Noiz pull him backwards at the last second.

            “Hey,” Noiz says.

            “What?”

            “I don’t want a threesome,” he tells him. “I was just kidding.”

            “I know that,” Koujaku says flatly.

            “I know, I just… I wanted you to hear it.”

            “Okay,” Koujaku laughs. He puts his hands on Noiz’s waist.

            “I just wanted you to know,” Noiz says, leaning up to him, “I only want you.”

            Noiz pulls Koujaku’s hands off his waist. Koujaku frowns at first but then Noiz rubs his thumbs along Koujaku’s wrists and brings their arms up to their sides. He slips his fingers between Koujaku’s to hold his hands.

            Koujaku’s breath hitches in his throat.

            “I only want you too,” he says, leaning down to kiss him. His hair falls down around their faces, hiding them away from the world and Koujaku really knows, for the first ever, that he is not a monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you believe it's over
> 
> in case you didn't know, every chapter followed [this playlist](http://8tracks.com/truejaku/this-could-get-ugly-a-noijaku-fanmix)
> 
> i'm currently working on my mizunoiz fic, [and then you bring me home](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1707251) and when that's finished, i'll be thinking about what to work on next! i have an idea for a sequel to speak like you, so there may be more of this noijaku, but we'll just have to see when the time comes.
> 
> thank you so much for reading. i received such a warm and gracious welcome into this fandom and i have never felt so appreciated and loved just for doing what i love and what i was going to do anyway! there has been so much SUPPORT from this fic, so many friendships that i've made and so much that i really do love about this fandom and even though this fic is done, i really can't wait to keep writing for this audience. thank you so, SO much and i really hope this last chapter satisfied. love you all.

**Author's Note:**

> b^_^d 
> 
> (thats supposed to be giving thumbs up its the best i got)


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